


hooked on all these feelings

by amante



Category: Wonder Woman (2017), Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Army, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Kid Fic, i just wanted to write antiope flirting while assembling a gun tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 10:48:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12479848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amante/pseuds/amante
Summary: “So does this make us girlfriends?” Antiope asks.“Does what? Sharing strawberries and champagne in your bed instead of going to PT?”Modern army AU.





	1. αʹ

**Author's Note:**

> please note before reading: this is a modern AU/comics fusion. Amazonia/Themyscira is a country where real life Turkey is. They’re at war with Ares’ new country, Areopagus, and also with Atlantis. They’re allies with Olympus. The Greek gods are real people, not gods, Amazonia has men in it but it’s a very feminist and LGBT-friendly country. Also all my army knowledge comes from movies/google, so I apologise if it’s incorrect. I’ve decided on a hybrid Ancient Greek/USA approach to the army so please roll with it. :)

The day Antiope meets the love of her life is also the day she dies.  
  
She comes back to life two minutes and thirty four seconds later. She is a tough lesbian. She has weathered worse than bullets in her life.  
  
Her sister, Queen Hippolyta Ephesus of Amazonia, is furious with her. Hippolyta never wanted Antiope to enlist for fear of this exact thing happening, but Antiope loves to prove her sister wrong, and getting shot to save the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen is so very worth it.

* * *

“Royals should not enlist, Antiope! Mother and father would not be happy with you.”  
  
“Mother and father are _dead_! They are dead because our army was too weak to beat Ares’ army. We only live because of your engagement to King Zeus, and I do not wish to be indebted to Olympus forever. I am strong. I am a good shooter. And most of all, I am _eighteen._ ”  
  
Hippolyta pauses to try and come up with a good rebuttal as to why Antiope should not join the army. She settles on: “You are short.”  
  
“Fuck you.”

* * *

Menalippe Teos does not believe in fate or destiny, but she’s starting to think she should. For the second time in her life she’s feeling icy cold, and her stomach feels like it’s in her feet as she creeps around a building, gun poised to shoot. The first time she felt this way she was sixteen years old in the backseat of her parents’ car, and a truck drove into them half a minute later. This time she is creeping around an Areopagus-occupied town on a combat mission with only the best soldiers in their battalion, and the fucking princess’ squad is trailing her own.  
  
This time— she turns. It’s too late. There’s a blur. She’s on the ground. Blood is spurting out all over her kevlar.  
  
Themyscira’s royal soldier has just saved her fucking life.

* * *

“So that you don’t all freak the fuck out later”—the woman takes off her helmet and glasses, and, holy shit—“yes, I’m Princess Antiope.”  
  
“Uh…” Menalippe’s mouth has gone dry because one thing the media doesn’t properly show is how fucking beautiful this woman is.  
  
“Cool. Nice to meet you all too.” Antiope curtsies mockingly, laughing at the stunned expressions on Menalippe’s squad’s faces. Even Captain Orana looks somewhat shocked.  
  
“Get in the fuckin’ truck, princess,” the captain of Antiope’s squad barks, and soon their two squads are all jammed in the truck heading out of the base.  
  
Menalippe spends the drive covertly glancing at the blonde and blushing whenever Antiope winks or licks her lips without breaking her gaze. Menalippe has got to get better at hiding her crushes.

* * *

“ _You_!” Menalippe exclaims.  
  
She has just burst into Antiope’s hospital room, abusing her friendship with Epione, one of the doctors, to sneak in. Her own room is only a few doors down in the base’s small hospital so it wasn’t too difficult, and since the queen is also in the building no one is paying any attention to Menalippe. Thankfully Queen Hippolyta isn’t in here right now, but that doesn’t make her sister any less intimidating — even lying in a hospital bed with her right arm all bandaged up.  
  
“You saved my life,” Menalippe says like she still can’t believe it.  
  
“I did,” Antiope says, sipping on a glass of water through a straw and staring up at Menalippe from her bed.  
  
“Do you even know my name?” The brunette asks, feeling somewhat like prey under the blonde’s strong gaze.  
  
“No. Does it matter?” Antiope raises an eyebrow.  
  
“I suppose not…” Menalippe shakes her head, somewhat unable to believe this is real. “Thank you.”  
  
“No need to thank me. Anything to piss off Hippolyta.”  
  
“I heard that!” A voice calls out from behind Menalippe, and she turns to see the queen entering the hospital room flanked by her bodyguards.  
  
“Hello, sister,” Antiope smiles sweetly.  
  
“The doctors have approved your transfer to the city,” Hippolyta says while looking Menalippe up and down, making it very clear that she is no longer welcome. Menalippe suddenly feels exposed in her hospital gown with nothing underneath, and she wonders if the queen saw her ass when she entered the room.  
  
“No! I wish to—”  
  
“You _wish_ to thank me for what I have done for you. God, Antiope, I flew the best surgeons out here for you! You cannot tell me you wish to stay in this war zone when you could be ruling our people with me!”  
  
“Fuck you. Hippolyta,” Antiope hisses, then gasps in pain from moving too quickly with her broken ribs.  
  
There is a steel in Antiope’s eyes that Menalippe has never seen before — not that she has known the woman very long — and she suddenly realises she is witnessing a very private moment between the royal sisters. She awkwardly starts backing out of the room, trying to figure out what to tell her squad mates when they inevitably pester her about her visit to the princess’ hospital room. So far her story is going to be full of lies.  
  
Menalippe is closing the door behind her, and the sisters still seem to be glaring daggers at each other when Queen Hippolyta speaks again.  
  
“You were right about her being cute.”

* * *

Any stupid daydreams of a relationship with her saviour disappear when the months pass and Menalippe doesn’t see her again. According to gossip, Antiope is back in the palace, and her time as a soldier is over. Menalippe has another 19 months of deployment to the Smyrna base and no way to contact the princess short of sending an embarrassing letter.  
  
“Royalty doesn’t belong in the army. Their presence fucks with all our heads. Like, should I save you or should I save the lesbian princess? I’m leaning towards the princess because she’s hot and would probably go down on me in thanks,” Penthesilea comments as she and Menalippe patrol the border.  
  
“Don’t be gross,” Menalippe grimaces at her best friend’s vulgar language.  
  
“Hey, I’m a woman with _needs_ , so unless you’re offering…”  
  
“No thank you,” the brunette shakes her head, looking out at the dusty plains surrounding them.  
  
“Didn’t think so. You’ve only got eyes for Antiope,” Penthesilea sing-songs.  
  
“Piss off,” Menalippe growls, tired of the teasing.  
  
“I’m right though. You’ve been lusting after her for months…”  
  
“I’m not lusting after her.”  
  
“Uh-huh. We share a dorm room, Mena,” Penthesilea taunts.  
  
“Oh, fuck you,” Menalippe snaps, storming ahead so her friend can no longer talk directly into her ear.  
  
“Ahh, listen to that sexual frustration!”

* * *

Antiope itches for her name to be called so she can go up on stage and receive her medal — not because she’s particularly excited to receive it but because she wants a chance to scan the crowd for Menalippe. She made sure to find out the brunette’s name before being transferred back to the city, and she has spent the past few months figuring out how best to see her again. The soldier appears to be on a career track and doesn’t seem to take her leave in the city.  Antiope was going to give up hope when the higher-ups revealed she was to receive a medal for her bravery.  
  
“Princess Antiope Ephesus of Amazonia, for her courage and sacrifice.”  
  
She grimaces at her official title and makes her way up onto the stage, barely paying attention as she shakes the general’s hand because she is busy scanning the crowd. She spies the soldier in the sixth row just as the medal is being placed around her neck, and she feels her heart start to race. Menalippe is smiling softly and, unsure of what else to do from the stage, Antiope winks at her.  
  
After the ceremony there’s a party, and Antiope shakes hands with many important people, poses for photos, and pretends to remember her parents’ friends. Other soldiers want to know the details of her heroics, but all she wants to do is find Menalippe and properly talk to her. The hold the brunette has on her is ridiculous; they’ve barely spoken ten sentences to each other, and yet Antiope bears a large scar on her shoulder where the bullet entered her arm and clipped her artery.  
  
Antiope spies Menalippe over at the bar, discretely chugging down a drink in a tall glass and looking like she’d rather be anywhere else but here. They’re in one of the palace function rooms, and if Antiope hadn’t grown up among its grandeur she thinks she’d be overwhelmed by the formidable gold decoration too.  
  
“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” Antiope asks as she bumps her side up against the bar and swings the medal between her fingers.  
  
“I—” Menalippe coughs as her drink goes down the wrong way.  
  
“It’s fine. I don’t need congratulations from the hot woman whose life I saved,” Antiope jokes and, oh, yeah, those three tequila shots she snuck from her flask before the party are starting to hit her.  
  
“I know other ways to congratulate you,” Menalippe says boldly, and it appears she is a little drunk too.  
  
Antiope sneaks her out of the party through the staff corridors and up into the bowels of the palace. It’s a grandiose building, and their voices echo off the beautifully decorated golden walls. Menalippe would feel somewhat scared to be in here if Antiope wasn’t so carefree about stumbling down the hallways and pressing her up against golden statues to make out. Menalippe’s dress uniform is meticulously clean, and Antiope finds the whole thing very sexy on her; Menalippe shares the sentiment about the blonde’s somewhat-creased uniform. She especially likes the medal around Antiope’s neck and how it helps to tug her close for another kiss.

* * *

Menalippe has got to stop meeting Queen Hippolyta with her bare ass on display.  
  
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Hippolyta shouts and something clangs to the ground. Menalippe finds out later that it was a breakfast platter.  
  
Menalippe thinks she would shout too if she came in bearing a nice breakfast for her hungover hero younger sister and found her tied to the headboard by her medal with a brunette between her legs.

* * *

Three more months pass before Menalippe sees Antiope again. They spent the morning together in the palace and then that afternoon the brunette had to catch a military flight out of the city and back to the army base. Menalippe spent the flight trying desperately to focus on reading her book, but her mind kept wandering to the princess and whether or not they’d ever meet again. Antiope is like a magnet, pulling her in and making it hard to let go.  
  
Menalippe is a captain now, promoted early for her hard work and problem solving skills. After the surprise attack wherein Antiope took a bullet for her, Menalippe deduced the location of the Areopagus’ secret tunnels; a surprise attack later and the Amazonian army has regained control of the town.  
  
“Officers, today we have a new colonel joining us. Now, please treat her as you would—”  
  
“Shit,” Menalippe gasps, suddenly realising who the new colonel is after the weeks of rumours. Her friend and mentor, Captain Orana, elbows her in the ribs, but Menalippe can’t keep a neutral face when Antiope walks inside the tent.  
  
Antiope shakes the hand of all the officers, trying to remain calm as she approaches Menalippe. Her eyes keep darting to the captain, and she tries to make it less obvious that she has spent three months thinking about her, but when their hands touch she knows it is a lost cause. At least Menalippe’s face is easy to read, and she too looks excited to see Antiope.

* * *

They make it a week before sleeping together again. Menalippe was trying to hold out longer — sleeping with a higher-up was never her plan — but she can’t resist Antiope. The princess is fiercely determined, wickedly smart, and her jokes leave Menalippe in stitches. She’s perfect. Plus, she’s only a year and a half older, and she’s royalty so Menalippe doesn’t think they can get in too much trouble.  
  
Any trouble is worth it for the way Antiope is moving her tongue right now.

* * *

They haven’t defined their relationship, and it’s hard to say that you’re dating when you mostly just fuck, and besides, the closest thing to dates on a military base is running laps together. Sometimes they’ll eat their meals at the same table, but Antiope usually dines with her team; she takes her colonel duties seriously. They can’t even attend the same PT sessions because Antiope is on a strict recovery plan from her gunshot wound, and Menalippe must train with the soldiers she leads.  
  
Menalippe wishes they could spend more time together to get to know each other better — she senses that Antiope feels the same intensity — but at least the nights they spend together are fun and easygoing.

* * *

“Colonel Ephesus, catch!” Penthesilea shouts and throws the basketball at Antiope’s back as she walks past the court where Menalippe and some members of her battalion are playing.  
  
Antiope turns and catches the ball easily, her eyes narrowing to a glare. The rest of the soldiers playing basketball freeze and look on in horror to see how Antiope will react to Penthesilea’s actions. Their army is somewhat informal when it comes to greeting a superior officer, but throwing a basketball isn’t considered acceptable.  
  
“Never call me by my surname again,” Antiope barks at Penthesilea. She throws the ball back, and Penthesilea catches it with a jolt from the force. Menalippe grins to herself at how Antiope doesn’t care for formalities but does care about her name.  
  
“What’s wrong with your surname?” Menalippe asks curiously as she walks over to the sidelines to get a drink.  
  
“I think surnames are pointless. I say we abolish them. First names only. Like they did in the old days,” Antiope explains, crossing her arms and drawing Menalippe’s gaze down to her chest. She’d feel bad about her blatant perving, but she can feel the blonde’s eyes scanning her own body; she’s sweaty — wearing only a sports bra and shorts — and she does not mind the Colonel’s attention.  
  
“In the old days there were only ten thousand people in the country,” Private Lukas says while the other soldiers observe in stunned silence. Antiope often has that effect on people.  
  
“What can I say? I’m a traditional woman,” Antiope replies, eyes darting towards Menalippe briefly, and the captain hides a smirk.  
  
“So we should call you Antiope?” Lukas asks.  
  
“Yes,” Antiope replies, her eyes still firmly on Menalippe. The captain watches as the colonel’s eyes soften, and then a moment later Antiope snaps out of her trance and dismisses them. “Captain Teos. Soldiers. Enjoy your game.”  
  
“Thank you, Colonel Ephesus,” Menalippe replies with a teasing grin.  
  
Antiope huffs and turns on her heel to stride back off towards the armoury. That night, in revenge, the colonel teases Menalippe until she’s screaming her name. Her first name.

* * *

“You know everyone in the army will call you by our surname, right?” Hippolyta asks as she helps Antiope smooth out her uniform for her officer academy graduation ceremony.  
  
“Shut up,” Antiope snarls, already glaring daggers at the Ephesus nameplate on her jacket.  
  
“There. All set,” Hippolyta says, stepping back to admire her sister in her dress uniform.  
  
“How do I look?” Antiope asks.  
  
“You look…” Hippolyta pauses and tries to hold back her tears.  
  
“Hippolyta,” Antiope murmurs, rushing forwards to hug her sister. “I’m gonna be fine.”  
  
“You’re… you’re going to _war_ ,” Hippolyta shakes her head.  
  
“Yeah, I am. But it’s not that bad,” Antiope soothes her older sister. “I’m an officer. Only a few years of active duty with a few raids on the Areopagus and then I’ll be in command, coordinating things from afar.”  
  
“If you get shot, I’m disowning you,” Hippolyta warns.

* * *

“Seriously, Mena. Tell me who you’re fucking!” Penthesilea exclaims as she and Menalippe stand in the guard tower at night.  
  
Menalippe is looking out through her scope into the surrounding grasslands, lit up by their floodlights. They don’t anticipate any attacks from Ares’ army any time soon but they must be vigilant.  
  
“I’m not fucking anyone,” Menalippe replies calmly.  
  
“You lying lesbian. You’re _definitely_ fucking someone. I’ve never seen you this relaxed before.”  
  
“Maybe I’m just relaxed because I don’t have to spend all my time with an annoying soldier,” Menalippe taunts her best friend.  
  
“I’m ignoring that because I know you’re just deflecting,” Penthesilea places her hand in front of Menalippe’s scope, forcing the captain to stand up and put her gun down on a nearby table. “Tell me who you’re fucking. I hope it’s Antiope, I know you like her. She’s hot.”  
  
“It’s not Antiope,” Menalippe lies. They need to keep their three month old relationship a secret until they’re ready to tell their commanding officers.  
  
“But you _are_ fucking someone?”  
  
“I—”  
  
“Is it Niobe? She’s hot too. I’d go there but she’s friends with Trigona, and my life doesn’t need that kind of complication right now.”  
  
“Maybe if you thought less with your vagina,” Menalippe suggests dryly, leaning against the wall of the guard tower. She enjoys the night watch with Penthesilea because they always have a lot of fun joking around with each other, but right now she would like some privacy regarding her personal life.  
  
“But it’s so _fun_! Ok. Is it Mala? Is it Orana? Ooh, is it Calyce, the hot mechanic? She’s good with her hands,” Penthesilea rambles.  
  
“No, Pen,” Menalippe shakes her head. “None of them.”  
  
“Damn. That’s all the hottest queer officers in the regiment. Like, if it’s not one of them I’m a little disappointed. I mean, that said, I’m already _really_ disappointed that it’s not Antiope. She did save your life, after all,” Penthesilea continues.  
  
“I remember,” Menalippe replies with a small smile as she thinks about Antiope’s heroics almost a year ago now.  
  
“Come on, Mena. At least give me a hint! I _need_ to know their identity!” Penthesilea pleads.  
  
“Whose identity?” Antiope asks suddenly as she appears at the top of the stairs behind Menalippe. “Are my soldiers conducting shady business in the guard tower?”  
  
“Ooh! Antiope! No shady business here,” Penthesilea exclaims. “I’m just trying to find out who Menalippe is fucking.”  
  
Antiope looks between them in amusement.  
  
“Menalippe is fucking me.”  
  
“What!” Menalippe and Penthesilea exclaim in unison, with two very different facial expressions.  
  
“Antiope, we said it was a _secret_ ,” Menalippe hisses as the colonel walks up behind her and wraps her arms around her waist. Antiope has to stand on tiptoes to rest her head on the captain’s shoulder.  
  
“Penthesilea is your best friend. She can know,” Antiope replies fondly.  
  
“Pen can’t keep a secret!” Menalippe grumbles.  
  
“Hey! I keep lots of secrets! Like, I didn’t tell anyone about the time I caught you masturbating to Antiope’s pic—”  
  
“ _Penthesilea_!” Menalippe shrieks.  
  
“What? When? _Babe_ , fuck, that’s so hot,” Antiope murmurs, pressing a kiss to Menalippe’s neck.  
  
“I… ugh,” Menalippe huffs, thankful that the darkness is hiding her blush.  
  
“It was your picture from that American magazine where they talked about your heroics,” Penthesilea supplies.  
  
“Oh, yeah, I looked _good_ in that shoot,” Antiope grins and moves a hand around to squeeze Menalippe’s ass.  
  
“You two are the worst!” Menalippe hisses. “We are meant to be on watch. Did you need something, Ti?”  
  
“Aww,” Penthesilea sighs as she watches them. Menalippe ignores her.  
  
“Yes. Right. Penthesilea I will take over your shift,” Antiope replies, stepping back from Menalippe.  
  
“Should I be concerned about decontaminating this tower?” Penthesilea jokes.  
  
“Pen!” Menalippe exclaims, shaking her head and walking back over to where she has left her gun on the table. “I’m ignoring you both.”  
  
Antiope and Penthesilea banter back and forth before there’s the sound of footsteps on the stairs and the feel of firm hands on her waist.  
  
“I’m serious, Antiope. We are on watch.”  
  
“I know. I just want one kiss,” Antiope murmurs, her hands sliding up underneath Menalippe’s camouflage shirt.  
  
“One kiss, _right_ ,” Menalippe scoffs, knowing all too well how it ends when the colonel is involved.  
  
“I mean it. One kiss, and I will behave myself all shift. Then we can go back to my quarters and spend the entire day together. I have checked the roster.”  
  
“Mmm, ok. Sounds perfect,” Menalippe smiles and turns around for a kiss.  
  
In the end it is Menalippe who pulls Antiope’s pants down as she’s bent over looking through her scope. It’s not Menalippe’s fault that Antiope’s ass is a work of the gods.

* * *

They can’t decide on when their anniversary should be. Antiope argues that it should be November 20th, the day they had sex after the medal ceremony, while Menalippe believes it should be when they started sleeping together in the barracks on February 28th. Antiope thinks that date is too close to Valentine’s Day, and simultaneously argues that May 15th — the day they met and she saved Menalippe’s life — deserves to be their anniversary.  
  
“You can’t argue in favour of two different dates, Ti,” Menalippe giggles as she eats fresh strawberries naked on Antiope’s large bed. Perks of sleeping with a colonel: extra soft mattresses.  
  
“I can, and I will,” Antiope replies haughtily as she jumps back on the bed with a bottle of champagne.  
  
“Yes, your highness,” Menalippe retorts.  
  
“Hey!” Antiope gasps and smacks the captain’s ass.  
  
“You know,” Menalippe says once she finishes giggling. “If we do make May 15th our anniversary then we have already missed celebrating it.”  
  
“Oh, I’m pretty sure we did a lot of celebrating,” Antiope says, stretching out beside Menalippe.  
  
“Mmm,” Menalippe sighs, rolling over to face her.  
  
“So does this make us girlfriends?” Antiope asks as she trails her eyes over Menalippe’s breasts, toned abdomen, and long, _long_ legs.  
  
“Does what? Sharing strawberries and champagne in your bed instead of going to PT?”  
  
“No. Having an anniversary, well, anniversaries. Does that, you know, make it official? Is that how this works?” Antiope asks, and for the first time in her life she sounds unsure.  
  
“You’ve never had a girlfriend before?” Menalippe asks, and she realises she doesn’t really know all of Antiope’s past.  
  
“I enlisted at eighteen and I’m a fuckin’ princess, what do you think?” Antiope grumbles.  
  
Menalippe reaches for the blonde’s hip immediately and strokes it soothingly; she knows her family is something of a sore spot for Antiope. “That wasn’t a criticism. I haven’t really had a long-term relationship myself.”  
  
She had a girlfriend in high school but they didn’t last past their first year of college because Menalippe was on a military path, and Penelope was a medical student and pacifist. In the years since Menalippe began active duty, except for the occasional hook-up and casual sex arrangement, no relationship has lasted more than a few months.  
  
“Mena?” Antiope asks, waving the champagne bottle in her face.  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“Does this make us girlfriends?” Antiope asks somewhat anxiously, and Menalippe realises she has been staring at her blankly in thought.  
  
“Oh, yes. I hope so,” Menalippe grins and leans in to kiss her girlfriend.

* * *

“What do you mean you’re _sleeping with_ Captain Teos?” Hippolyta shrieks over the video chat.  
  
“Would you relax, Hippolyta?” Antiope rolls her eyes as she stretches out her injured shoulder.  
  
“She’s below you in the chain of command! I can’t believe you!”  
  
“You know as well as I do that if I wasn’t royalty, and hadn’t pulled strings to return to the army, that I’d be a captain just like her,” Antiope explains. She doesn’t feel any guilt about using her connections to circumvent Hippolyta’s orders and get back to the army after being shot. There was a vacant colonel position, and Antiope called everyone she knew to get her the job, because she never even wanted to be medically discharged. She knows Hippolyta is pissed off about it, but she won’t do anything to stop Antiope, and after being back in the army for two weeks, the colonel never wants to leave again.  
  
“But you’re not. You’re a colonel! You’re… _Two_ positions above her!”  
  
“Oh, I’m above her alright,” Antiope grins, stretching her arms up above her head.  
  
“Please don’t tell me any more details. I’m still scarred from what I saw the other month in your bedroom,” Hippolyta replies.  
  
“You’re such a prude.”  
  
“I am not! I’m simply… I’m the queen. I can’t be sleeping around like you.”  
  
“I’m not sleeping around,” the colonel replies defensively.  
  
“You’re not? A month ago you were sleeping with my guard, Venelia—”  
  
“Yeah, well, this is different. I really like Menalippe,” Antiope says softly.  
  
“Ok,” Hippolyta says skeptically, “Well if things get serious then I want to meet her, but I definitely _do not_ want to see her bare bottom again!”  
  
“Ha! Sure thing, sis,” Antiope grins and moves to close the window on her laptop. “Love you.”

* * *

Menalippe is walking back towards her hut after a meeting with the other captains to discuss their new training plan when she spots Antiope exercising in the officer PT yard. She would ignore her girlfriend because they try to avoid each other in public, but she realises Antiope is crying. She rushes over to where Antiope is alone in the training yard since everyone else is assigned to other duties at the moment.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Menalippe asks worriedly.  
  
“Nothing,” Antiope hisses, but then cries out in pain when she tries to do another push-up.  
  
Menalippe realises instantly that her right shoulder is hurting her, and she places a hand on Antiope’s left shoulder, squeezing it gently.  
  
“Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself.”  
  
“I’m fine,” Antiope says as her arms shake, and she attempts another push-up through her tears. “I’m fi—”  
  
“You’re not fine. Jesus Christ, Antiope. You can’t push your body like this,” Menalippe snaps angrily. Antiope’s shoulder still gives her grief sometimes, and the captain hates it when she pushes herself too far.  
  
“I can do this—”  
  
“Get the fuck up,” Menalippe growls, tugging on Antiope’s good shoulder until the blonde drops back onto her knees, her body shaking.  
  
“Sorry—”  
  
“Come on, my quarters aren’t too far.”  
  
Menalippe helps Antiope to her feet and quickly leads them back to her hut. She deposits her girlfriend on her bed and goes to her first aid kit to get some instant ice and strong painkillers. She helps pull off Antiope’s t-shirt to more whimpers from the blonde, and then straps the ice pack to her shoulder with a bandage. She hands Antiope the pills and a new bottle of water from her mini fridge, then pushes the blonde back onto the mattress, lying down behind her so she can spoon her. Antiope must be in a lot of pain for Menalippe to be able to manhandle her like this.  
  
“Why do you do this to yourself?” Menalippe murmurs, kissing the back of Antiope’s exposed neck, thankful that her hair is in a somewhat messy bun.  
  
“Sorry,” Antiope mumbles, still sniffling in pain.  
  
“You think you need to prove something to everyone because you’re royalty but _you don’t_ ,” Menalippe says, stroking Antiope’s bare stomach and kissing her nape again. “You’re an amazing leader; you’re calm under pressure; the missions you lead are highly successful; our regiment has the best stats; and you’re one of the best snipers — even with your left hand.”  
  
“Thank you…” Antiope says quietly.  
  
“No need,” Menalippe replies. “Get some rest. I’ll tell Colonel Artemis that your shoulder is acting up.”

* * *

They inform their bosses of their relationship before Christmas because Antiope wants to spoil Menalippe, and they don’t want to have to hide it during the many festive celebrations on base. It is surprisingly easy — they suspect Antiope’s royal status helps — and simply have to agree to keep the higher-ups informed of any changes, and they aren’t allowed to have any input on each other’s performance reviews and promotion applications.  
  
The freedom of being open about their relationship is exhilarating. They can dance at the formal celebrations; eat meals together in the mess hall; spend the night in each other’s quarters without being sneaky about it; and Antiope can kiss Menalippe against a humvee in between PT and mission planning, and no one can stop them.  
  
While at Smyrna base their gifts for each other are simple, and they both can’t wait for their deployment to end. Antiope gives Menalippe a stack of new books for Christmas while Menalippe gives her a new knife. On Valentine’s Day they both have the same idea to do a sexy striptease down to their dog tags that ends in giggles. For Menalippe’s 25th birthday Antiope gives her a framed photo Penthesilea took of the two of them cuddling by the fire pit at sunset, a bottle of expensive champagne, and multiple orgasms.

* * *

“Stop!” Menalippe pouts as Antiope takes another photo of her while she eats her breakfast. They’re sitting on the porch of Antiope’s hut watching the sunrise after an early morning jog.  
  
“I need photos to—”  
  
“I swear to god, do not finish that sentence. If you think me eating muesli is sexy, then—”  
  
“Photos to _remember you by_! Get your mind out of the gutter,” Antiope rolls her eyes.  
  
“We’re only gonna be apart for four months, Ti,” Menalippe says.  
  
Antiope has been taking her photo for weeks in anticipation of their time apart. Unfortunately Menalippe’s deployment to Smyrna is almost up, but thankfully Antiope has successfully managed to reduce her two year deployment to eighteen months, and then she’ll join Menalippe at Themyscira base just outside the city. Hippolyta was very excited to hear the news because that means her sister will definitely not be on any combat missions.  
  
“I know… but I’m going to miss you,” Antiope admits, lowering her phone to her lap.  
  
Menalippe puts down her muesli bowl and takes a swig from her water bottle, watching her girlfriend carefully. Whenever Antiope admits anything important she loses her usual confidence and tenses up. The blonde starts fidgeting at the silence from Menalippe, as the brunette looks back out at the sunrise.  
  
“Oh, did you want a response?” Menalippe jokes, turning back towards Antiope who is thrumming with nervous energy.  
  
“You’re the _worst_!” Antiope exclaims and Menalippe laughs and pushes her down onto her back on the porch.  
  
“Of course I’m gonna miss you, you idiot,” Menalippe says, hovering above the colonel and straddling her with a grin.  
  
“You better,” Antiope growls, wrapping her arms around Menalippe and pulling her down on top of her.  
  
“I _will_ ,” Menalippe smiles, brushing Antiope’s hair out of her face. “I love you.”  
  
The biggest smile lights up Antiope’s face and she takes a moment to process the information, her chest feels so warm and full from hearing those words.  
  
“I love you too.”


	2. βʹ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antiope brings her gun up to her lips to blow imaginary smoke away from the barrel. It’s patently unfair that she can look so ridiculously sexy while acting like a dumb movie star.

“‘Sup Colonel?” Penthesilea asks with a lazy salute as she finds Antiope cleaning her pistol outside the firing range.  
  
“Captain,” Antiope nods her head back at the newly promoted soldier. She and Menalippe’s best friend are similar in many ways, so they get along well with each other. Penthesilea opted to extend her deployment to Smyrna after receiving her promotion, rather than return to Themyscira base where Menalippe is, and she is thriving as a captain. “What does it look like I’m doing?”  
  
“God, you _are_ pissy today,” the captain says.  
  
“What do you mean?” Antiope narrows her eyes at her.  
  
“I video called Mena earlier and she said you were in a mood.”  
  
“Well—”  
  
“ _Relax_ , princess, I bring a gift,” Penthesilea says, holding out an envelope with the number one written in Menalippe’s handwriting on it.  
  
“What is this?” Antiope asks curiously, putting down her pistol and taking the envelope with a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.  
  
“I’m to give these letters to you once every three weeks.”  
  
“Once every three weeks?” Antiope clarifies her girlfriend’s strange time interval.  
  
“Yes. Because, and I quote, you are ‘greedy,’” Penthesilea says with great joy.  
  
“That’s rude.”  
  
“Also Mena got a hand cramp while writing them so she didn’t finish her last two so, uh, they might have incorrect info in them. Like if she signed off with ‘see you in a week’ that’s probably wrong now,” the captain explains.  
  
Antiope laughs and clutches the unopened letter to her chest, knowing she will love them already. She has been calling Menalippe a couple of times a week and they text each other regularly but with both of them being on different bases with different schedules it is hard to find more than fifteen minutes at a time to talk. Menalippe is somewhat old-fashioned at heart too and so Antiope thinks she should probably write some letters in response.

* * *

“No, Antiope Ephesus, I will _not_ strip naked for you on camera!”  
  
“But it’s my birthday.”  
  
“Good one.”  
  
“But it _is_ my birthday.”  
  
“Oh, fuck.”

* * *

Antiope doesn’t care much for being a princess, but sometimes she wishes her life was a little more fairytale-like. On the day she should be transferring back to the city base, there’s an Areopagus attack on one of the disputed towns, the Atlantean battleships are on the move, and Hippolyta informs her she is pregnant.  
  
“What the fuck do you mean you’re pregnant?”  
  
“Zeus and I are having a baby.”  
  
“What the fuck? I thought you were going to break off the engagement?” Antiope swears down their secured phone line as she reviews their intel to launch a counterattack against Ares’ army and collaborate with the navy to stop the Atlanteans.  
  
“Well…”  
  
“Jesus Christ, I don’t have time for this. I have to go plan an attack,” Antiope says, then realises she’s being a bit rude, adds, “Congrats.”

* * *

One additional week at Smyrna becomes two, becomes five, and before Antiope knows it she has been helping lead a key assault against Ares’ army for two months and it’s almost November. Her bed is cold without Menalippe to spoon her, but she barely sleeps anyway; she spends all her time in the command centre, and helps their brigadiers and generals fight back against the Areopagus army. Their navy has moved into the defensive against the Atlanteans and fortunately they are not actively attacking them right now. Antiope misses Menalippe terribly, but her girlfriend is similarly busy at the Themyscira base.  
  
“Hippolyta has invited me to the palace,” Menalippe explains over the video. The captain is a blur because she’s gathering her things to go into a meeting.  
  
“What?” Antiope says, squinting at her phone as she crawls into bed at eight in the morning after spending the night overseeing a raid. “She what?”  
  
“Yes. I think she is missing you, and I have leave next week, and I suppose I’m the closest thing to you—”  
  
“Fuck you, I want to have leave,” Antiope grumbles to what she can see of Menalippe’s desk.  
  
“You could take leave—”  
  
“No, I must oversee this attack—”  
  
“Quit complaining about wanting leave, then,” Menalippe replies sharply.  
  
“Sorry,” Antiope replies, knowing Menalippe is missing her just as badly, and Antiope is the one who has opted to stay deployed at Smyrna. “I think we can win this war soon, though. If only King Zeus would agree to involve more of his troops… That fucker.”  
  
“You do know he’s going to be your brother-in-law, right?”  
  
“Mmhmm. Fucker,” Antiope huffs.  
  
“Ok, well, I have to go. Get some sleep, grumpy,” Menalippe replies, finally standing still and blowing a kiss to the camera.  
  
“Love you,” Antiope says.  
  
“Love you too.”

* * *

The conflict against Ares drags out for another two months, culminating in Ares himself being killed by a missile to his bunker three days before Christmas. Antiope has to commend Zeus for actually deciding to kill his warmongering, genocidal son, even though she still finds the twenty-five-year age gap with her sister somewhat gross. Their relationship was meant to be purely political but she supposes there is something ruggedly handsome about the King of Olympus. There is no going back on their engagement now; Hippolyta is five months pregnant, it has been announced to the world, and a wedding is being planned for next month.  
  
It is New Year’s Eve now and Antiope is in the shower, preparing for her first night off in months. She’s excited for the evening but she wishes she was back home in the palace with her sister and her girlfriend. This is Antiope’s favourite time of year, and while she loves the army, she is still upset about missing Christmas with her family, and she doesn’t love being alone for New Year’s Eve. She has to remain at Smyrna base to help oversee Areopagus’ surrender, but thankfully she should be cleared to fly out to Themyscira in a few days provided Atlantis doesn’t attack them any time soon.  
  
“ _Antiope_!”  
  
The colonel whirls around in her shower at the shout that comes from the bedroom. She has no time to process what is happening before the bathroom door bursts open and Menalippe rushes in and pushes her up against the wall for a desperate kiss. Antiope drops the bar of soap she was holding to wrap her arms around the brunette and return the kiss, unable to believe this is happening. She feels all the tension evaporate out of her body and never wants this moment to end.  
  
“Hi,” Menalippe murmurs with a grin when they finally part to catch their breath.  
  
“Hey,” Antiope smiles, eyes dropping down to take in Menalippe’s soaking wet white t-shirt; this could not be more perfect.  
  
“The palace sucks without you,” the captain says. “I couldn’t stay there any longer.”  
  
“What did I do to deserve you?” Antiope asks, pulling up Menalippe’s t-shirt to place her hands on bare hips.  
  
“Hmm, you did risk your life to save mine once upon a time,” Menalippe replies fondly, stroking the scar on Antiope’s shoulder.

* * *

“I’m going to murder Penthesilea,” Antiope says as she ducks behind a crate of rocket launchers to whisper to Menalippe over the phone.  
  
“What has she done now?”  
  
“She’s dragged me into her drama with Niobe and Trigona,” Antiope hisses.  
  
“Welcome to my life,” Menalippe replies.  
  
“ _Babe_ , what do I do?”  
  
“I don’t know what the current situation is. Figure it out yourself, Colonel.”  
  
“Ugh.”  
  
“Consider this your punishment for deciding to stay in Smyrna,” Menalippe laughs.  
  
“You’re the worst. I love you,” Antiope replies. It’s only been a week since she decided to stay to see out the assault against Ares and it feels like a lifetime. She hopes it doesn’t take too much longer; they just need to find the bastard and kill him, then his army will fall.  
  
“I love you too.”

* * *

Hippolyta’s wedding is a huge event with officials from all around the world coming to attend it. It’s also Antiope and Menalippe’s official introduction as a couple. Antiope hasn’t worn fancy clothing nor attended royal events in years now but she remembers easily enough. She’s in a gorgeous tuxedo, and since their parents are long-dead dead, she walks Hippolyta down the aisle to give her away and she absolutely does not cry.  
  
Menalippe wears a beautiful ocean blue dress with her hair pulled back into a loose bun. Antiope can’t take her eyes off her and pulls her onto the dance floor as soon as possible. She can tell that Menalippe feels uncomfortable with all the attention but she weathers it well. The media are hanging around and they want quotes from everyone, and the palace PR team informs them that pictures from the wedding are gaining traction internationally. Antiope often forgets how close minded other countries can be, and makes sure to kiss Menalippe extra hard in front of the cameras.  
  
Everything seems to be going perfectly until Zeus drops dead on the dance floor, a knife lodged in his back.  
  
The party turns to chaos and their lives become an absolute shitstorm for the next few months. Hippolyta retreats to her chambers whenever not required in public, Antiope juggles being a colonel and a sister, and Menalippe helps both of them with their work. They set up a command centre in the palace rather than returning to the army base, and work around the clock to figure out the truth. Their intel reveals the assassination was the job of leftover Ares’ loyalists who wouldn’t return to their home country of Olympus, in collaboration with the Germans who want to leverage their position in the world while Amazonia is busy fighting the Atlanteans.  
  
Work is as busy as it was during the final stages of the war against Areopagus but at least Antiope is home in the palace with Menalippe in her bed every night.

* * *

“Are you sure you want to marry Zeus, Hippolyta?” Antiope asks one last time as she climbs into her sister’s bed the night before the wedding.  
  
“ _Yes._ I know you think he is too old, but he is kind and he cares for me and this baby far more than he needs to for a political marriage,” Hippolyta replies.  
  
“Well, that’s good,” Antiope murmurs.  
  
“Don’t you want me to be happy?”  
  
“What? Of course I do. _Of course_ I do, sister,” Antiope reaches for Hippolyta’s hands and squeezes them. “I hope that you will be and that you will have a long and joyful marriage.”  
  
“Good. I want the same for you one day,” Hippolyta replies. Antiope bites back a smile, knowing this means Menalippe has won over her sister over the holiday period.

* * *

Diana is the cutest baby Antiope has ever seen, and she is glad her sister pulled strings to approve Antiope and Menalippe’s leave from the army because she would hate it if she had missed this. Antiope has never been very big on children but her niece is so adorable. Menalippe teases her endlessly for her cooing but she does not mind.  
  
Hippolyta is happy for the first time in the three months since her wedding and that is all that matters to Antiope.

* * *

“Maybe Hippolyta should leave the palace? We could go with her somewhere. She needs to get out... ”  
  
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mena. This is the safest place in the kingdom.”  
  
“But it is so suffocating here, and—”  
  
“This is our _home_.”  
  
“I know that, but—”  
  
“I know my sister. She will not want to leave. That is why she spends all her time in her chambers; they are comforting right now. It _has_ only been two weeks since Zeus died after all.”

* * *

“Remind me again why we are in your hut?” Antiope asks as she tries to get comfortable on the small bed in Menalippe’s hut on the second night of their return to the Themyscira base.  
  
“Because you wanted to get naked and couldn’t be bothered walking the extra distance to yours,” Menalippe replies sleepily.  
  
“Right. That was a good decision at the time, but now, I am having regrets—”  
  
“Shut up, ‘Ti. I’m sleeping,” Menalippe grumbles.  
  
“How? Your bed is so _small_ ,” Antiope replies.  
  
“Yes it is, princess.”  
  
Antiope huffs and rolls onto her left side once more, her back to Menalippe. There just isn’t enough space on this bed for both of them and it’s too hot in the summer to spoon. Then there’s a gentle hand on her right shoulder and she feels the mattress shift as her girlfriend snuggles up behind her.  
  
“We can always put our clothes on and do a mad dash to your hut. Be in your bed in like… Two minutes.”  
  
“Hmm… too much effort,” Antiope replies.  
  
Menalippe snorts, having expected that response, and kisses Antiope’s scar before rolling back over to her ‘side’ to close her eyes.

* * *

“God, I forgot how hot Themyscira gets in the summer,” Antiope grunts as she and Menalippe lead a gruelling battalion jog in the early morning.  
  
“You grew up here,” Menalippe replies in amusement. The Themyscira base is on the outskirts of the city and due to it being inland it gets much hotter than Smyrna did with its closer proximity to the ocean.  
  
“I grew up in the palace. With air-conditioning,” Antiope corrects, pulling off her t-shirt so she’s just in a sports bra.  
  
“Ti!” Menalippe hisses at the breach of uniform protocol.  
  
Antiope grins and tosses her sweaty t-shirt to Penthesilea, who has recently transferred here, to carry as they jog. Penthesilea swears at Antiope and Menalippe checks her watch; they still have three kilometres to go and their banter is not helping today.  
  
“Maybe we should permanently move to the palace? Get jobs at high command so we can work in air-conditioned rooms?” Antiope muses.  
  
“No. I hate the city,” Menalippe replies, picking up her pace.

* * *

“You grew up in Patara, did you not?” the German ambassador asks Menalippe as she stands at the bar and watches Antiope happily dance with Hippolyta.  
  
“Yes,” the captain replies politely. All night people have been asking her about her life and she is trying to get used to how much information they have dug up on her. Hippolyta mentioned people would be curious, and said that she had nothing to worry about, but the invasion of privacy is strange.  
  
“Do you miss it?” The man asks curiously.  
  
“I have not been there since I was six, and it is under siege by the Atlanteans right now, so, no,” Menalippe says.  
  
“That’s a shame. I hear it was a beautiful region. Your father was in the army was he not?”  
  
“Yes,” Menalippe replies, somewhat taken aback by the mention of her father.  
  
“I’m sorry to hear of his death. Sacrificing yourself for your country is a noble thing, as I’m sure you’re aware,” the German man smiles at her and she forces herself to smile back. It wouldn’t do to create an international incident at Hippolyta’s wedding.  
  
“He didn’t. My parents died in a car crash a few blocks from here,” Menalippe corrects him through gritted teeth. She would have thought the media would know that information since it was all over the newspapers at the time — her father had been a brigadier — but she supposes this is typical of a man to not read all of the information.  
  
“Oh, how dreadful. If I can do anything,” the German places his hand on Menalippe’s waist as he steps closer, “let me know.”  
  
“Thanks buddy, but that won’t be necessary,” Antiope says, suddenly appearing at Menalippe’s side.  
  
“Your highness,” the man says, immediately excusing himself.  
  
Antiope spends the next few minutes consoling Menalippe so she doesn’t burst into tears at the dredged up memory, and not long after that, Zeus is stabbed.

* * *

“Hippolyta wants us to come to the palace for my birthday,” Antiope announces two days before her birthday as she bounces into Menalippe’s office.  
  
“Oh,” Menalippe frowns, not looking up from her paperwork. Her forehead is all scrunched up in concentration and Antiope finds it very cute.  
  
“She’s putting in an official request so you don’t need to worry—”  
  
“I can’t. I have to finish this report before the counterattack against the Atlanteans can be authorised,” Menalippe says, crossing out a figure on her notepad.  
  
“Babe, it’s just one day,” Antiope says, walking over to her girlfriend’s desk and perching on the edge.  
  
“It’s one day I can’t afford to miss,” the captain says, putting down her pen and looking up at the colonel. “Go without me.”  
  
“Aww, but Diana will miss you.”  
  
“Diana can’t walk or talk yet, I think she’ll be ok,” the brunette replies dryly.  
  
“You’re in a mood,” Antiope comments with a raised eyebrow and tries to think about when Menalippe’s period is due. The brunette is lucky and doesn’t really get PMS but maybe that would explain her crankiness of late. Antiope herself no longer gets periods because she’s used IUDs since she was seventeen, and on the bad months when she has to warm up heat packs and give her girlfriend backrubs, she is very happy with her decision.  
  
“I’m just stressed,” Menalippe sighs. “You should go visit your family. Take a few days off, Hippolyta would like that.”  
  
“I…”  
  
“Seriously, Ti. You should. You’ve got a gap in work right now, so…”  
  
“Good point,” Antiope nods. Their regiment is not currently deployed so she is mainly coordinating training, whereas Menalippe is a captain so she is stuck working on the logistics reports from their time at Smyrna. The brunette is desperate to get promoted to battalion leader at the end of this year since she’ll finally be eligible, and it is more than likely that Antiope will also receive a promotion to brigadier for all her efforts taking down Ares and finding out who killed Zeus.

* * *

“Menalippe?” Antiope asks softly a week later when she finds Menalippe sitting out on the grassy hill at the edge of the base, watching the stars come out alone.  
  
It’s the sort of whimsical thing that Menalippe is prone to doing — she loves stopping to appreciate nature — but Antiope knows something is wrong. She just ate dinner with  Penthesilea and Orana, and vented her frustrations with Menalippe’s distant behaviour lately, and they pointed out that the anniversary of her parents’ death is coming up. Antiope did the math in her head and is kicking herself for not realising it sooner. Menalippe has always been the strong and rational one to Antiope’s fiery nature and with the many distractions of this year, the blonde didn’t notice until now that her girlfriend seems unhappy. She’s spent the last hour searching the base for Menalippe and only found her after a somewhat panicked radio call to the guard towers revealed the captain’s location on the hill.  
  
“Oh, hey,” Menalippe says, glancing over at Antiope.  
  
“Aren’t you cold?” Antiope asks suddenly when she realises Menalippe is sitting in just her PT t-shirt and pants, with no jacket to keep her warm from the cooler autumn winds.  
  
“I’m fine,” the brunette protests but Antiope still hurries to slip off her camouflage jacket and place it around Menalippe’s shoulders as she sits down on the grass beside her.  
  
“We missed you at dinner,” the blonde murmurs, reaching for her girlfriend’s hands to lace  their fingers together.  
  
“I wasn’t hungry.”  
  
“Are you ok, Mena?” Antiope asks quietly after a moment. They’ve barely seen each other since she returned from the palace two days ago due to Menalippe being busy with work, and Antiope realises now that they didn’t even speak on the phone on her birthday. At the time she was too caught up with Hippolyta and Diana, and Menalippe did give her a gift to open — a beautiful illustration of the ancient Trojan war — but now she realises she hasn’t had more than five minutes alone with her girlfriend in the last few weeks.  
  
“I’m fine,” Menalippe replies again, staring out at the night sky.  
  
“You don’t look fine,” Antiope comments, squeezing her hand comfortingly.  
  
“I’m just stressed about work, ok?”  
  
“No, this isn’t work stress, Mena. You thrive on work, like I do, and this isn’t just tiredness from being at the office all day… you look exhausted to your bones,” the blonde insists, scrutinising the brunette in the moonlight. Menalippe looks like she’s lost some weight and Antiope really wants to kick herself for not noticing this sooner.  
  
“Gee, thanks,” Menalippe mutters, pulling away but Antiope places a hand on her thigh to keep her seated.  
  
“Is this about your parents?”  
  
“ _No—_ ”  
  
“I know it’ll be ten years soon, and I know how hard it can be…” Antiope murmurs.  
  
“No you don’t!” Menalippe exclaims, finally turning to look at Antiope and there are tears in her eyes. “No you don’t.”  
  
“Try me,” Antiope replies, trying to fill her gaze with as much love as possible.  
  
“You won’t get it,” Menalippe hisses as she starts to cry. “You still have family. You have your sister, and your niece, and extended family, and all of those people in the palace who love you. My family is _dead_. My grandparents were killed by the Persian attacks. My hometown was destroyed by the Atlanteans. My parents died in a fucking _car crash_ in the city. I fucking _hate_ the city. I hate the palace, and I hate that I hate it because I know you love being there, and I — I just can’t. The _one_ time I thought it was safe, the fucking King of Olympus was murdered. Everyone I love dies and if Zeus can be killed, then… how can any of us be safe? I’m destined to be alone—”  
  
“You’re not alone,” Antiope insists, interrupting Menalippe’s upset rambling to stroke her cheeks and wipe her tears away. “You’re not gonna be alone. You _do_ have family. You have _me_.”  
  
“And _you’ve_ died before, so—”  
  
“Jesus, Mena. I’m not going to _die_ ,” Antiope shakes her head. She hasn’t seen active combat since ten months ago when they were taking down Ares — and she’s certainly not going to be on the frontlines any time soon — but she can see how her past recklessness would scare Menalippe when she’s already torn up about everything else. Significant anniversaries have a way of making everything feel worse, and now that Antiope knows how much she really hates the city, spending three months there while working to track down Zeus’ killer couldn’t have been easy for Menalippe.  
  
“But you could—”  
  
“You can’t think like this,” Antiope says, pulling her girlfriend into a firm hug. “I’m alive. You’ve alive. You’re not alone at all. You have me, Hippolyta, Diana, Penthesilea, Orana, Epione… We all love you so much.”  
  
Menalippe is silent as she sobs into Antiope’s shoulder, and the blonde simply presses kisses to her temples and strokes her back until she stops shuddering. Antiope hates to  think how long Menalippe has been bottling all off this up, but she’s glad she knows about it now so she can try and help.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Menalippe mumbles, clinging to Antiope’s neck.  
  
“No, don’t be sorry,” Antiope says, kissing her forehead. “I should have realised…”  
  
“I should have said something earlier,” Menalippe sniffles and leans back to wipe her eyes.  
  
“It’s ok. I see now how rough this year has been on you… we’ve both been working our asses off and we were in the city for so long…” Antiope trails off, getting an idea. “We could go away for a few days around the anniversary. Rent a house near the mountains, and go hiking?”  
  
“We can’t—”  
  
“We’ve both got enough leave, I can get my contacts to rush the approval. The war will go on without us around for a few days,” Antiope says gently. “If you don’t want to then we can stay but I think you need a break, honey.”  
  
“Honey?” Menalippe giggles as it’s the first time Antiope has used that pet name.  
  
“Yeah, that felt weird to say,” Antiope smiles, liking the sound of Menalippe’s laughter.  
  
“I think that sounds like a good idea though…” the captain says a moment later. “Plus… ugh, I kinda fucked up your birthday again didn’t I?”  
  
“Hey, you got me a gift this time,” the colonel grins and leans in to kiss her.

* * *

They take off to a countryside rental cottage the day before the anniversary of Menalippe’s parents’ deaths. It’s at the base of the mountains and there is no one in sight. They stock up on groceries and for the first time in their relationship Menalippe gets to witness Antiope’s disastrous attempts at cooking. Antiope wants to spoil her girlfriend but after she sets off the fire alarm for the third time, Menalippe takes over.  
  
They go for long, easy hikes during the day and cuddle up on the couch reading their books by a wood fire at night. Menalippe opens up about more of her fears and struggles, and Antiope does too, and by the end of their four day break, their relationship is stronger than ever.

* * *

The next year passes smoothly. They make a point of taking actual breaks from work and they keep no secrets from each other. They spend Christmas on the base with their army friends, and then Antiope visits her sister at the palace over New Year’s. By January the Atlanteans surrender and the relief of peace is like nothing else. Amazonia has been at war since before they were both born, and they love that they can actually take their vacation leave without feeling guilty about not serving their country.  
  
Antiope and Menalippe both receive promotions, and in February to celebrate a belated Valentine’s Day and their ‘Anniversary of our First Fuck at Smyrna’ Antiope spends her annual bonus flying them to Paris. They both speak French from learning it in school and it makes for some fun pillow talk. They dress in disguises on the off chance that someone will recognise the princess of Amazonia, and visit all of the tourist locations as civilians.  
  
Over the summer they also getaway to the French Riviera for a week where Menalippe buys Antiope a vintage camera in a local market. The brunette ends up having to secretly destroy a few rolls of film before Antiope can have them developed due to the indecent photographs captured within.

* * *

With both of them mostly working from their offices and overseeing the regiment, they make an effort to go to the firing range once a week. Antiope hasn’t had time to even go to the gym in the last week so she is itching to shoot something. They perform function checks on their pistols and then put their ear muffs on and load them, ready to begin the round. Antiope presses the button for the round to start, and soon after assuming a firing position, the targets start to pop up one by one and they shoot them. Antiope is faster at reloading so she hits an extra target and when they go to count their scores at the end, the blonde is triumphant as always.  
  
“Ugh,” Menalippe frowns when she sees her score, wishing she was still as skilled as she used to be. They don’t have nearly as much time on the firing range as they used to, and while neither of them particularly wants to be in active combat, they both enjoy the adrenaline rush of shooting a gun. Antiope even manages to perfectly hit the targets at the end of the range; she is naturally gifted. Antiope grins at her girlfriend as they remove their ear muffs and she swaggers over while clearing her pistol.  
  
“And that’s how it’s done.” Antiope brings her gun up to her lips to blow imaginary smoke away from the barrel. It’s patently unfair that she can look so ridiculously sexy while acting like a dumb movie star.  
  
“ _Please_.” Menalippe shakes her head with a laugh as she clears her own gun.  
  
“Hmm, sounds like you’re jealous of my superior marksmanship. Don’t worry, babe, I can teach you.”  
  
“You can?” Menalippe raises an eyebrow, playing along.  
  
“Oh, yeah”—Antiope twirls her pistol around her index finger—“let me see your pistol.”  
  
Menalippe hands it over to her girlfriend and crosses her arms as Antiope makes a show of inspecting it, pulling back the slide and eyeballing the M9. The blonde hums in thought and then gives the barrel a long lick. Menalippe bites back a moan at how sexy that impractical move is.  
  
“Mmm, just as I thought. This needs cleaning,” the blonde says wisely. They cleaned their guns together yesterday. “When you’re cleaning your gun,it’s important that you take your time when you’re taking it apart. Use the right amount of pressure in the _right_ places. And be gentle when you apply the _lubricant_ , inserting it into every crevice of the body.”  
  
Menalippe bites her lip. This is ridiculous, but so very, _very_ sexy. Antiope is speaking with a deeper voice than usual, and she’s dragging out every word, and her lips look delicious, and — Menalippe has zoned out from what she’s saying.  
  
“When you’re reassembling your handgun you need to take care. Treat her well. Grasp the barrel gently as you _insert_ the muzzle…”  
  
“Mmm,” Menalippe sighs, her thoughts most definitely not on the proper technique for reassembling a pistol.  
  
“Teos, focus,” Antiope barks and then gives her a sleazy grin and a slow shake of her head when Menalippe looks at her. “Naughty girl. Get your mind out of the gutter.”  
  
“Sorry, Ephesus,” Menalippe replies challengingly. Calling Antiope by her surname gets the blonde both irritated and turned on these days; it’s exactly what Menalippe wants when Antiope responds by grabbing her arms and roughly directing her over to the firing area. The brigadier loads a new magazine in the gun and hands it to Menalippe.  
  
“Here, Teos, assume the firing position. _Spread_ your legs further apart, _relax_ your shoulders, _tighten_ your grip,” Antiope says as she stands behind Menalippe and adjusts her stance, taking the opportunity to slide her hands over her girlfriend’s sides in her fitted t-shirt.  
  
“Mmm,” Menalippe moans softly as Antiope’s fingers brush over her stomach.  
  
“Looking good, Teos,” the blonde murmurs in her ear.  
  
Antiope leans over to press the button to start the round before pressing herself up against Menalippe’s back and covering her hands with her own.  
  
“Breathe”—Antiope murmurs in Menalippe’s ear before nibbling on her earlobe—“and fire.”  
  
“Fuck,” Menalippe whispers, her knees feel weak from her girlfriend’s behaviour and her panties are soaked with arousal.  
  
The first target appears and the brunette is too dazed to shoot it; she can feel Antiope’s breasts against her back and she is aching with desire. Antiope laughs and taps her hand gently to prompt her and Menalippe shakes her head, focusing on the next target, thankfully managing to hit it. When she finishes her first magazine and it comes to reloading she is distracted once more by Antiope’s hands on top of hers. By the end of the round when they count Menalippe’s scores, she has barely hit half the targets compared to her last round. Giggling softly, Menalippe clears the gun and turns around in Antiope’s arms, placing a hand on the blonde’s hip.  
  
“I think your instructions need improvement, Ephesus,” Menalippe murmurs, biting her lip.  
  
“Mm, no, I think your listening needs improvement, Teos,” Antiope replies, looping her arms around the brunette’s neck.  
  
“I think—”  
  
“You two are sickening, I can’t watch anymore. Take your foreplay elsewhere!” A voice comes over he loudspeaker from the nearby guard tower and Menalippe steps back from Antiope, recognising her friend Epione.  
  
“Oh my god…” Melanippe murmurs, having completely forgot about the tower with soldiers on duty at all times in case of emergency on the gun range.  
  
“I bet she’s jealous,” Antiope replies, hooking her fingers through Menalippe’s waistband.  
  
“Mmm… she has a point, though,” the brunette says, biting her lip and looking through her lashes.  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“My office isn’t far.”

* * *

Antiope walks towards her house at the end of a long day in her office, ready to run a bath with some of Menalippe’s scented oils and stretch out in the tub. Since becoming a brigadier she’s been upgraded to much nicer living quarters, and Menalippe has essentially moved in. She received a text from her girlfriend two hours ago saying she was stuck in meetings but that she’d be home soon. Things are perfect between them right now but Menalippe does have a tendency to get wrapped up in her work, like Antiope also does; so Antiope wonders if she’s perhaps forgotten that it’s her birthday. It wouldn’t be the first time and Antiope wonders if this will be an unofficial tradition for them.  
  
She pushes open the door, mentally composing the teasing text she’s going to send Menalippe when she sees the candles and fairy lights decorating her living room and stops in her tracks. The dining table has been set like something you’d find in a five star restaurant, not an army base, and Menalippe emerges from the kitchenette carrying a bottle of champagne.  
  
“Happy Birthday, babe,” Menalippe grins and happily kisses Antiope’s stunned face.  
  
“What—”  
  
“Surprise! Third time’s the charm, right?” the brunette laughs and guides Antiope down into a chair before popping the bottle of champagne.  
  
Menalippe informs her that she has altered the roster so neither of them have any duties before midday the next day and they get stuck into the meal. The brunette managed to make traditional youvetsi and horta vrasta in the tiny kitchen, and she had some loukoumades sent in with Hippolyta’s help. The homemade meal is delicious, as is the champagne, and Antiope ends up quite tipsy at the end of the meal and makes a clumsy attempt at playing footsie. When the brunette stands to clear the table, Antiope whines and tugs her into her lap for a kiss, having much more fun things in mind.  
  
“Clean in the morning,” the blonde murmurs, kissing her way down the brunette’s neck.  
  
“Don’t you want your present first?” Menalippe replies with a sigh as Antiope nips at her skin.  
  
“There’s more?” Antiope asks, leaning back to regard her girlfriend in surprise.  
  
“Of course,” the brunette smiles and climbs off her lap. “Be right back.”  
  
Antiope gulps back the last of her champagne while Menalippe disappears into the bedroom. The brunette takes a while to emerge and Antiope starts entertaining ideas of a sexy striptease because Menalippe hasn’t done that in a while. However when Menalippe emerges she doesn’t play any music on their speakers and instead seems somewhat nervous. Antiope’s heart starts to race when Menalippe drops to one knee before her and reveals a small black box from behind her back.  
  
“Antiope…” Menalippe begins while fumbling to open the box, “You are the bravest, strongest, funniest, most ridiculous, loving person I know. You make me happier than I ever thought possible, and I want to keep having fun with you for the rest of our lives… will you marry me?”  
  
“Yes,” Antiope replies instantly, her eyes shining with happiness. “Yes, a thousand yeses!”  
  
She helps tug Menalippe back up into a searing kiss and they feel each other’s happy tears slide down their cheeks to their lips. Menalippe slips the ring onto Antiope’s finger and she takes a moment to admire how beautiful and perfect it is before kissing Menalippe again.

* * *

“An-pe!” Diana shrieks and runs to hug her aunt’s legs as they arrive at the palace.  
  
This Christmas they’ve opted to spend it with Hippolyta and Menalippe is determined to enjoy herself. Antiope has been fretting over her all morning, checking that she was feeling ok as they drove into the sprawling city, and the brunette does admit she feels much better about the city compared to the last time they were here.  
  
“Hello, my darling,” Antiope replies, dropping her bags abruptly in the grand palace entrance hall so she can lift the toddler up onto her hip.  
  
Menalippe hugs Hippolyta and then the queen makes an excited beeline for her sister.  
  
“Let me see the ring!” Hippolyta says, grabbing Antiope’s hand and admiring the twisting gold design. “Ooh, it is beautiful. Menalippe, you have such good taste.”  
  
“Thank you,” Menalippe smiles.  
  
“It will be good to have someone in the family who understands real beauty.”  
  
“ _Hey_!” Antiope huffs, pulling her hand back and looking at her niece who she has perched on her hip. “Your mother gives me no respect. I take nice photographs, and I like art.”  
  
“Your t shirt has stains all over it,” Hippolyta replies dryly.  
  
“It’s my favourite Nirvana t shirt! From that time we ran away to Rome to go to their concert. You know, when you were _fun_ ,” Antiope teases her sister and sticks her tongue out at her. In her arms Diana giggles and also sticks her tongue out at her mother.  
  
“It’s pretty gross now, Ti,” Menalippe adds. Next to Hippolyta, in her warm, flowing winter gown, Diana in her similar child’s outfit, and Menalippe in a sleek woollen dress, tights and heeled boots, Antiope does suppose her baggy jeans, combat boots, dirty t-shirt and leather jacket aren’t quite up to palace standards.  
  
“Whatever, it’s comfy, and I don’t need clean clothes if I’m just going to be playing with this one. Diana, I hear you got a puppy for Christmas?” Antiope asks her adorable niece.  
  
“Pup!” Diana confirms excitedly and points towards the other end of the hallway.  
  
“Can we go see him?”  
  
“ _May_ you see him? I suppose so. We do not have anything scheduled until the evening,” Hippolyta replies.  
  
“You’re such a brown hat,” Antiope says, grinning when Menalippe laughs.  
  
“Ugh, you know I hate it when you use military slang,” Hippolyta grumbles.  
  
Antiope simply beams at her sister and starts leading the group down the hallway to meet Diana’s new puppy.

* * *

“Seriously, Antiope? You’re in the palace for one day and the paparazzi catch you and your fiancée naked against a _window_?”  
  
“Ok, in my defence…” Antiope pauses when she notices the shade of red her sister is turning. “My ass looks good.”

* * *

“What do you think of buying a house off-base?” Antiope asks, brushing her teeth and leaning against the doorway of their bathroom in a fluffy robe while Menalippe showers.  
  
“What?” Menalippe asks, reaching up to put conditioner in her hair and Antiope is momentarily distracted by the sight of her wet breasts. “A house?”  
  
“Hmm?” Antiope asks, thinking about how she’d like to join her fiancée in the shower right now rather than get dressed for the fancy military Valentine’s Day dance they have to attend tonight.  
  
“A house?” Menalippe repeats, wanting to know that the blonde is serious.  
  
“Oh right. Yeah, a house would be nice, right? It’s not like we have to be up for 5am PT anymore so we wouldn’t have to get up at bumfuck o’clock to make it to the base every day,” Antiope goes over to the sink to spit out her toothpaste.  
  
“Where would you want to live?” Menalippe asks curiously.  
  
“I dunno. Close to the national park maybe?” Antiope shrugs. “I don’t really care as long as you love it. You know I’m happy living in this hut but that’s not really conducive to being a family.”  
  
“A family?” Menalippe pauses. “Do you want kids, Ti?”  
  
Antiope hesitates to gather her thoughts. They haven’t really discussed children before, and now that she thinks about it, they probably should. The comment slipped out unplanned so she’s somewhat surprised with her own idea.  
  
“I mean, not right now. But maybe? Diana’s pretty cute, I think we could handle one, right? And I want a dog. Like, ten dogs, actually,” she says as she thinks about Diana’s cute puppy Argos.  
  
“That sounds nice,” Menalippe replies softly, rinsing her hair and turning the shower off. She walks up behind Antiope, watching her carefully in the mirror, and wraps her arms around her, resting her chin on the blonde’s shoulder.  
  
“You know, it’s entirely unfair that you’re so tall and sexy,” Antiope complains. “I deserve to be at least… three inches taller.”  
  
“You’re rambling, shorty,” Menalippe smiles serenely and peels the blonde’s wet hair away from her neck to kiss her clean skin. “I will happily have a kid with you, but I draw the line at ten dogs. Two dogs are plenty.”  
  
Antiope sighs and twists around in her fiancée’s arms, looping her arms around Menalippe’s neck and kissing her with a sappy smile on her face.  
  
“Love you,” Antiope smiles.  
  
“Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please comment/give kudos if you liked it? :)


	3. γʹ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With her future wife at her side, Menalippe feels like she can do anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for how long this took to post! it's a super long chapter if that helps make up for it. :)
> 
> shout out to [cinis](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinis/pseuds/Cinis) for beta-reading this.

“We want a long engagement, Hippolyta,” Antiope explains over the video chat.  
  
“Oh, but weddings are _so—_ ”  
  
“No. You can make plans but we’re not setting a date yet… Mena is still adjusting to the fame and, well, you know what happened at the last wedding,” Antiope explains gently.  
  
Hippolyta is doing much better two years on from her wedding to Zeus. She mourned him for a long time, but Diana helped her cope with his loss, and now Hippolyta has admitted she is dating an ex-air force pilot named Philippus who now works in the private sector. Antiope likes the sound of this military woman and privately she thinks it will be good for her sister to have someone who doesn’t blindly agree with her ever decision.  
  
“I understand,” Hippolyta replies with a sympathetic look. “You have clearance for the fireworks you want for your anniversary, by the way.”  
  
“Ooh, yay!” Antiope exclaims. “I’m so excited. This will be even better than the skywriting.”

* * *

“Didn’t you just get skywriting the other month?” Penthesilea asks as she and Antiope eat lunch inside their humvee while they oversee new drills on Smyrna base.  
  
”That was for Valentine’s Day,” Antiope explains, looking up gift options on her phone. She’s been assigned to Smyrna for two weeks to oversee the implementation of her new training plan, and she’s missing Menalippe a lot. She needs to make their anniversary special.  
  
“And the fireworks?”  
  
“Our anniversary.”  
  
“And the hot air balloon ride?”  
  
“Her birthday.”  
  
“Wait— what do you mean the fireworks — isn’t _this_ for your anniversary?”  
  
“We have multiple anniversaries. This is for the first time we met on May 15th, then there’s one for the first—”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You guys are sickening,” Penthesilea says. Antiope punches her in the arm.  
  
“Ooh, I could get a star named after her. No, a constellation! Hmm, how much family money would I need…”  
  
“Ok, no more caffeine for you,” Penthesilea says, taking away Antiope’s energy drink. “What’s with you and the sky-themed presents, anyway?”  
  
“She is my sun and stars—”  
  
“I should never have leant you guys my Game of Thrones DVD’s.”  
  
“You love me,” Antiope grins.  
  
“No, I loved Antiope before she became a lovesick engaged weirdo,” Penthesilea replies and Antiope laughs loudly. “Who let you be in charge of ten thousand troops?”

* * *

It takes Menalippe months but she finally finds the perfect present for Antiope’s 30th birthday. Antiope has been gifting her with more and more ridiculous displays at every possible opportunity this year — she knows it’s Antiope’s competitive nature trying to beat her proposal last year — and so Menalippe needed to find something amazing. And she has.  
  
“Holy fucking shit!” Antiope screams upon opening her present.  
  
It’s a working replica — currently unloaded — of Ellen Ripley’s gun from Aliens and Menalippe feels quite smug about finding the perfect gift.  
  
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Antiope shrieks and slips the strap over her arm, pointing the gun towards their couch and pretending to shoot it. Menalippe bursts into laughter when Antiope makes fake shooting noises.  
  
“Babe,” Menalippe says through her laughter, trying to record this with her phone.  
  
“Pew, pew,” Antiope says, turning towards Menalippe and pointing the Alien-gun at her. Antiope has a huge grin on her face as she advances towards Menalippe, pulling her in close for a kiss. “Thank you. I love it!”  
  
Antiope spends the next hour crawling around their house pretending to be Ellen Ripley, and she makes them late to the birthday party Menalippe has organised with all their friends on base. Menalippe makes her leave the replica gun at home, which is probably for the best because they both end up trying to beat Orana and Artemis in a tequila shot competition and have to be carried back to their hut by some of the guys.

* * *

“Hey, grumpy,” Menalippe says a week later as she walks up to the shooting position next to Antiope at the firing range.  
  
“I’m not grumpy,” Antiope replies, clearing her pistol and inspecting it.  
  
“Sounds like something someone grumpy would say,” Menalippe says as she starts preparing her own pistol for the round.  
  
“I just don’t see why I _can’t_ use my Ripley gun on the firing range,” Antiope replies petulantly.  
  
“Oh, honey,” Menalippe laughs.  
  
“It’s only a modified M41A and a M240…”  
  
“ _Antiope_ , do you know how many permits I had to get to even make that weapon for you?”  
  
“I know,” Antiope says, smiling softly at Menalippe and letting go of her complaints.

* * *

After seven months of unsuccessful house hunting, Antiope and Menalippe make the decision to buy land and build their dream house instead. They agreed they want to be somewhere close to Soguksu National Park because it is a beautiful area, and the block of land they end up buying is only a twenty minute drive to the base. As much as Antiope likes to pretend otherwise, she is still royalty and as such she is a target, so they must have the palace guards properly secure their property. Though Amazonia is no longer at war, there is still the ongoing threat from the Germans and some rogue Ares-loyalists who wish to uphold his name.  
  
They buy a twenty-five acre plot of beautiful steppe and Hippolyta enlists the royal architect, Timandra, to help design their house. Neither of them needs a huge mansion to be happy — they have each lived easily enough in their small army quarters, but they can’t deny that having space to stretch out and decorate is nice. Plus they want it to be a location for Hippolyta and Diana to visit instead of always going to the Themyscira Palace or the Tuz Palace.  
  
“Hey, so hear me out, a statue—”  
  
“If this is another battle statue proposal I’m hanging up on you,” Iphthime says the moment she answers Antiope’s call. Iphthime is a sculptor who made many statues for Antiope’s parents when they were alive, and she refuses to make anything excessively violent.  
  
“No, no. No battle this time. Just two naked women riding horses with swords.”  
  
“…I’ll think about it.”  
  
Antiope grins as the call ends and goes to find Menalippe where she is reading a book on the couch. They settled on a design for the house last week and now Antiope gets to commission all of the art and features that she wishes the palace and the army barracks had.  
  
“You’re in a good mood,” Menalippe comments as Antiope bounces on the couch.  
  
“I think Iphthime will make us the lesbian sculpture for the stables,” Antiope explains happily.  
  
“Stables? Are we getting horses now, my love?” Menalippe asks with a smile.  
  
“I’d like some… Ephesus children take riding lessons and I’d like to continue that tradition,” Antiope explains.  
  
Their wedding is only six months away now and so Antiope is seriously considering children. She thinks she’d like to adopt a girl because being an aunt to Diana has been easy.  
  
“That sounds good to me,” Menalippe says, lifting her feet up into Antiope’s lap with an expectant grin.  
  
“What am I, your slave?” Antiope jokes and begins to rub Menalippe’s feet.  
  
“I want to finish this chapter and I know you’re going to sit there annoying me unless you’re occupied—”  
  
“I resent that implication—”  
  
“So if you could please give me a foot rub for the next ten minutes I would be very thankful.”  
  
“Oh, I’ll give you a rub,” Antiope replies, wiggling her eyeb.

* * *

On the twelfth anniversary of Menalippe’s parents’ deaths, she takes Antiope to their graves. They are buried in the military cemetery on the other side of Themyscira and this is the first time Menalippe has been to visit their graves in seven years. She came every few months in the beginning, and always on the anniversary, but it eventually became all too overwhelming and she thought she would never move on if she clung to their death. These days she still feels a gaping hole in her heart where they should be, but at twenty-eight, with a fiancée, a steady career, and plans for their own family, she does not feel so cripplingly alone. This, however, does not stop her lip from wobbling as she places the flowers she has brought upon their tombstones.  
  
Menalippe tries taking deep breaths to combat that familiar tightness in her chest but she cannot escape the sight and silence of their graves. The dark chasm of grief threatens to swallow her up again, and tears fall from her eyes to land on the stone beneath her. Their tombstones are grand and the epitaphs are beautiful, but none of this makes up for the fact that her parents aren’t alive. Menalippe wants nothing more than to feel their arms around her once more, to see their smiles as Menalippe introduces them to Antiope, to hear their laughter as they play with their future grandchildren. Menalippe feels sick, and an awful cry escapes her as she loses all control over her tears.  
  
Antiope rushes to comfort Menalippe, wrapping a strong arm around her and letting Menalippe crumple into her side. Loud, heaving sobs wrack Menalippe’s body and there is nothing for Antiope to do but stroke her back and let her cry until she has no more tears. Antiope hates to see Menalippe in so much pain; she wishes she could take it away.  
  
When Menalippe’s breathing is back under control, Antiope helps her to stand upright so she can address their graves the way she wanted to.  
  
“I’m sorry I haven’t been to visit in a while, mom and dad… I’ve been… well, truthfully… I didn’t know that I was strong enough to come back until now,” Menalippe eventually begins, glancing at Antiope with watery eyes as she clings to her hand. “I’m getting married… This is Antiope. She’s a brigadier like you were, dad, and I know you would love her so much. She’s brilliantly smart, and funny, and beautiful, and she makes me happier than anyone else in the world.”  
  
Antiope’s eyes shine with tears as she listens to Menalippe’s words, and she strokes her thumb over the back of Menalippe’s hand, offering her silent support.  
  
“I wish you could be there for the wedding. We’re having it at the Tuz Palace where you always went for the Christmas Ball — and yes, mom, she _is_ the princess whose dress was covered in mud and who couldn’t shake your hand on account of holding two souvlakis,” Menalippe continues, her voice cracking.  
  
“I met them?” Antiope whispers, not recalling the occasion, but she must have been quite young. She remembers hating the annual Christmas Ball because she simply wanted to spend the holiday with her family at the Tuz Palace and swim in the lake. After her parents were killed in the summer when she was ten, she resented the ball even more, and begged Hippolyta to stop the event. Thankfully Hippolyta felt the same way about the ball, and these days unless kept on base by army work, Antiope always loves to spend Christmas with her sister.  
  
“Yes,” Menalippe nods. “I remembered it the other day. You were ten… it was the last ever Christmas Ball. My m—mom said H—Hippolyta’s manners were b—better.”  
  
Menalippe breaks into sobs again at the mention of her mom, and Antiope turns and wraps her arms firmly around her. She holds Menalippe’s head to her chest, cheek to her heart, and strokes her back soothingly. She knows how hard it is to visit one’s parents’ graves and she is sure that she will be similarly distraught when she takes Menalippe to the mausoleum where her own parents are entombed.  
  
“I can’t guarantee that I won’t still show up to a party with a dirty dress,” Antiope begins softly, addressing the tombstones. “But I would be honoured to shake your hands. Your daughter is the most loving, understanding, hard-working, beautiful woman in the world. I am so lucky to be in her life and I think that you would be very proud of the woman your little girl has become.”  
  
Menalippe lifts her head from Antiope’s chest and kisses her firmly, tears streaming down her cheeks. Antiope is warm and solid against Menalippe and her kiss tastes like hope. This visit is a painful necessity but with her future wife at her side, Menalippe feels like she can do anything.

* * *

A week before the wedding, Antiope chops all of her hair off because her long hair doesn’t perfectly suit the dress she’s chosen. Hippolyta isn’t happy about it because she and the stylists had planned on a beautiful braided look to mimic the braids Antiope usually has in her hair. Antiope says she doesn’t care about her sister’s anger but the tension in her body says otherwise. Menalippe has been cuddling Antiope from behind as she spoke to Hippolyta on the phone; Diana lost her first tooth and wanted to share the news, and of course over the video chat Hippolyta noticed Antiope’s missing long hair.  
  
“Stop worrying about what Hippolyta thinks, my love. You are so happy with your hair and I think it looks great,” Menalippe says.  
  
“Just great?” Antiope asks, reaching forward to place her phone on the bedside table after hanging up on Hippolyta.  
  
“You know I love it,” Menalippe murmurs, wrapping her left arm around Antiope and pressing up against her back, kissing the nape of her neck.  
  
“‘Great’ doesn’t sound like you love it,” Antiope replies.  
  
“You are fishing for compliments. What’s wrong?”  
  
“Hippolyta is never happy with what I do,” Antiope huffs.  
  
“I don’t think that’s true,” Menalippe replies, sliding her hand under Antiope’s t-shirt to rest it on her firm stomach. “She may disapprove of your choices initially but she always comes around. Hippolyta is the queen, she is simply more set in tradition.”  
  
“She still does not approve of my career—”  
  
“That is only because she's afraid of you dying… She is very proud of your accomplishments. You know that she has your promotion photos framed and she always speaks proudly of you in interviews. Don’t you think you should cut her some slack? She is under immense pressure right now,” Menalippe replies gently.  
  
Menalippe feels much closer to Hippolyta these days as she has been very involved with their wedding planning — more than Antiope has been. Antiope’s only stipulations for the wedding have been ‘nothing too ugly’ which in Antiope’s case could mean anything from bows on dresses, to lace tablecloths, to the giant palace candelabras; essentially she trusts Menalippe and Hippolyta to know her taste. Therefore Menalippe has spent many nights on the phone to Hippolyta as they made choices for the wedding.  
  
“I know that, but—”  
  
“Ti, she will like your hair by tomorrow; she just needs to adjust to the change.”  
  
“I suppose,” Antiope grumbles.  
  
“And remember, the last wedding she planned was her own to Zeus… Ours must be organised to perfection.”  
  
“That is true… damn, listen to you with your truth and logic,” Antiope replies, rolling over to face Menalippe.  
  
“Want to hear some more truths?” Menalippe replies with a smile.  
  
“That depends on—”  
  
“Your hair is so fucking sexy it makes you look authoritative as hell and it makes me want you to push me down and spank me,” Menalippe replies in a rush before she can lose her nerve.  
  
“That can be arranged.”

* * *

Their wedding is perfect in every way, and if Antiope were the type of girl to dream of her future wedding, this is what she would have wanted. Menalippe _is_ that type of person, and she says as much to her wife somewhere between her fourth and fifth glass of champagne.  
  
“Dance with me again!” Menalippe demands, interrupting Antiope’s conversation with Philippus.  
  
“Alright,” Antiope smiles, happily taking Menalippe’s hand and getting pulled back onto the dance floor. Their height difference is somewhat less pronounced today because Antiope is wearing her favourite comfortable heeled boots underneath her black wedding dress, while Menalippe wears flats underneath her white dress. Menalippe had originally planned on wearing heels but after realising the a-line skirt of her backless white lace dress would hide her shoes, she happily decided upon flats.  
  
The wedding ceremony happened in the great hall of the Summer Palace in the afternoon, and now the reception is in the surrounding palace grounds. It is a beautiful spring night and with the small guest list it is relaxed and fun. Everyone is at least somewhat drunk, and both brides could not be happier.  
  
“Where’d your squad go?” Antiope asks, referring to Menalippe’s maid of honour, Penthesilea, and her bridesmaids, Orana and Epione.  
  
“Pen went to fuck Venelia in a bathroom,” Menalippe says bluntly—she loses her filter when drinking—as she wraps her arms around Antiope’s waist.  
  
“ _Ha_! Hippolyta is gonna _haaate_ that,” Antiope laughs, leading them in a gentle sway to the music. Hippolyta, as Antiope’s maid of honour, insisted that all members of the bridal party behave themselves tonight lest a scandal leak to the international media. Considering Antiope is a lesbian brigadier princess, she doesn’t think anything could be any more scandalous than the entire marriage itself.  
  
“I know,” Menalippe giggles. “And the other two went to the bar because this is the best alcohol they’ve ever drunk.”  
  
“Only the finest French champagne for my wife,” Antiope replies with a big grin.  
  
“I could get used to getting spoiled by my wife,” Menalippe says, dancing her fingers over Antiope’s hips as they sway together.  
  
“You say that like I don’t already spoil you,” Antiope rolls her eyes.  
  
“Yeah but…” Menalippe pauses to think. “you’re only now my wife.”  
  
“Wife,” Antiope smiles happily.  
  
“Wife,” Menalippe repeats and leans in to kiss Antiope.  
  
“God, listen to us,” Antiope laughs and rests her forehead against Menalippe’s.  
  
“Mmm, I could listen forever.”  
  
“Me too.”  
  
They dance together for a few more songs before returning to their table to eat more cake and talk to their guests. Antiope eats her way to a food coma, and by the time they reach their bedroom in the palace they are both too exhausted to do anything but take off their dresses and makeup, and crawl into bed.  
  
They make up for the lack of wedding night sex on their honeymoon in Spain.

* * *

It’s really not fair that Antiope is ambidextrous. She signs paperwork twice as fast with a pen in each hand, can shoot a gun with her left hand with the same perfect accuracy, and right now she’s beating Menalippe on the basketball court. Antiope doesn’t even really like basketball — she prefers hockey and soccer — but she loves to win. Menalippe, who loves the sport and whose height should be an advantage, is not happy about this. Their friendly after work, one-on-one match has turned into a furious contest between the married couple, and Antiope is gloating about being in the lead.  
  
“C’mon babe, time to catch up,” Antiope taunts Menalippe as she returns the ball to her wife after scoring a three-pointer.  
  
It’s currently 18-14 and Menalippe is determined to catch up. She takes a moment to breathe and center herself before dribbling forward. If she can score a two-pointer and then intercept the ball from Antiope on Antiope’s next offence, she has a chance of winning. Unfortunately, this does not go to plan. After much back-and-forth, Antiope steals the ball, and shoots another three-pointer, bringing her score to 21.  
  
“And that makes it two wins to, what was it again, hmm? _Oh_ , right zero. Shall we extend it to best of five?” Antiope grins, all teeth.  
  
“No thanks,” Menalippe grumbles, heading over to the sidelines to get some water. Penthesilea is sitting on the bench watching them and she gives her best friend a consoling pat on the back.  
  
“Aw, babe, c’mon, I can’t help that I’m great at scoring three-pointers,” Antiope says, miming doing a jump shot as she walks over towards her wife.  
  
“You won’t be great at scoring _anything_ if you keep bragging like this,” Menalippe mutters.  
  
“ _Ha_!” Penthesilea laughs and holds up a hand for Menalippe to high five.  
  
“What? What did you say?” Antiope’s eyes narrow.  
  
“Nothing, honey,” Menalippe replies sweetly, turning to give Antiope a tight-lipped smile. “Thanks for the games.”  
  
Menalippe jumps over the bench and heads off towards the officers’ quarters while Antiope watches with a frown.  
  
“Oh man, married two weeks and already in the doghouse,” Penthesilea says.  
  
“I didn’t understand—”  
  
“C’mon, Ephesus, you were being a dick,” Penthesilea replies.  
  
“...I suppose I could have gloated less. And, ooh, we definitely need a doghouse for our property. I’ll tell the builders.”

* * *

“Ten-hut!”  
  
The new soldiers stop in front of Antiope, Menalippe, and the other officers, who are surveying them critically. Antiope hides a smile as she thinks about how she’s going to mess with them this year. She clears her throat.  
  
“Forward march!”  
  
The soldiers begin marching.  
  
“Left elephant!”  
  
Some of the soldiers stop while others don’t. There are multiple collisions. Antiope suppresses a smile.  
  
“Right ice cream.”  
  
“Stop fucking around, Ti,” Menalippe murmurs, shaking her head at her wife’s antics.  
  
“...None pizza with left beef!”

* * *

“Jesus Christ you couldn’t even wait two hours after moving into your house?”  
  
“Mother, why are they naked when it’s not bath time?”

* * *

“Who is the greatest photographer ever?” Antiope calls out as she returns to the living room after receiving a courier package with developed photos from their wedding two months ago.  
  
“Io, our wedding photographer?” Menalippe retorts cheekily and takes the glossy photos from her wife.  
  
“Rude.” Antiope swats at her arm and flops down along the couch beside her, immediately burrowing her face into Menalippe’s thighs. She is utterly exhausted from carrying boxes upstairs and reminds herself to go to the gym more often; her abs are currently less defined than usual and she misses them.  
  
Menalippe instantly slides a hand through Antiope’s hair before looking through the photos. Antiope had forgotten about the fact that she drunkenly took photos with her vintage camera at their wedding, and only remembered upon unpacking all the boxes in their new house this week. She’s ended up with a roll almost entirely devoted to Menalippe’s face and ass, and another with some lovely candid shots of Hippolyta and Diana that no hired photographer could ever get due to Hippolyta’s regal poise around strangers.  
  
“Oh wow, these are stunning, honey,” Menalippe says as she flicks through the photos. “Hippolyta looks so relaxed.”  
  
“I’ve never seen her not look uptight in photos before,” Antiope comments.  
  
“Manners, babe,” Menalippe replies, but she laughs.  
  
“Manners, schmanners,” Antiope says, flapping her hand up at her wife.  
  
“This is nice,” Menalippe says softly and Antiope shuffles around to lie on her back and look up at her wife’s smiling face. Menalippe turns the photo over and it’s one of the two of them; Menalippe sitting in Antiope’s lap, smiling at each other. “Who took this?”  
  
“Hmm… Diana I believe.”  
  
“Ohh, that’s right. She wanted to be like her Aunt ‘Iope,” Menalippe replies fondly.  
  
“Who wouldn’t? I’m the best,” Antiope grins.  
  
“Remember what we said about humility?” Menalippe says, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“That my talents with my tongue negate my lack of humility?” Antiope replies cheekily.  
  
“ _You_ said that.”  
  
“Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”  
  
“Antiope Ephesus—”  
  
“Here, I’ll prove it to you, and — oh, look, how convenient. Your pussy is right here.”  
  
“Antiope!” Menalippe shrieks as Antiope pulls down her pants.

* * *

Menalippe is browsing Netflix on Antiope’s laptop, trying to settle on a film to watch while Antiope orders Chinese take out for dinner. She’s debating between a rom-com and some sad-looking lesbian film when an email notification pops up and she automatically reads the subject line: Medical Leave Approved. She swears her heart stops and she clicks into Antiope’s email without a second thought, needing to know more; privacy be damned. The email doesn’t give her any more information except that Antiope has been cleared to have next Thursday and Friday off.  
  
A thousand scenarios race through Menalippe’s mind as she sits on their couch in shock. Antiope hasn’t told her anything about this; maybe she’s got something awfully wrong with her and didn’t want to worry her wife. Maybe her gunshot from all those years ago has caused issues in the long term. Maybe Antiope is getting an MRI for a tumour and she’s dying and she’s going to leave her all alone, and—  
  
“Mena, what’s happened?” Antiope asks frantically as she enters the room and rushes over. Menalippe realises she’s crying and the laptop has fallen off her lap onto the floor.. Antiope sits down beside her and squeezes her arms, looking at her worriedly.  
  
“Are you— are you sick?” Menalippe manages between her tears.  
  
“What? I’m fine,” Antiope frowns and scans Menalippe’s upset face.  
  
“M-medical leave…”  
  
“Oh, fuck,” Antiope replies. Menalippe thinks she might throw up. “Babe, I’m fine. I’m just getting my IUD replaced. I’m sorry, I should have said something.”  
  
Menalippe has never been so relieved in her life. “You’re ok?”  
  
“ _Yes._ Fuck, I’m so sorry. I forgot to tell you.” Antiope replies, pulling Menalippe into a tight hug. Antiope wraps her arms around her, still too worked up to stop crying just yet. “I’m ok.”  
  
“Sorry…” Menalippe murmurs when she eventually pulls away.  
  
“Don’t be. I should have told you,” Antiope shakes her head and wipes away Menalippe’s tears.  
  
“Two days off… it’s not that complicated is it?”  
  
“No. This is my… fourth IUD so it’s routine at this point. But I had some cramping after it last time so I figured I’d take an extra day off to spend more time with Diana — oh yeah, I’ll, uh, be staying in the palace.”  
  
Menalippe rolls her eyes, used to Antiope’s whims. She should have realised this wouldn’t be anything serious; Antiope would never lie to her about anything important. Antiope smiles at her and pulls her in for a hug again, murmuring another apology.

* * *

“Hey, honey?” Menalippe murmurs as she climbs into bed after putting on her warm winter pyjamas. Antiope is already in bed, reading the latest reports on the Germans’ activities.  
  
“Yeah?” Antiope asks.  
  
“Um, are you sure you should get another IUD put in?” Menalippe says, trying to seem casual and not like she has been over thinking this for five days.  
  
“Uhh, _yeah_. I don’t wanna have periods,” Antiope replies, still reading her reports.  
  
“I know, but… we’ve been talking about having children,” Menalippe says, leaning back against the headboard.  
  
“Yeah, but what does— _oh_ , wait, you mean… I’d get pregnant?” Antiope looks up at her with a somewhat disgusted expression.  
  
“Yes,” Menalippe replies, regarding her wife carefully. “Have you changed your mind?”  
  
“What? _No_ , of course not! I just — aren’t we gonna adopt?”  
  
“You’re royalty,” Menalippe says blankly.  
  
“So?”  
  
“Your child has to be your blood for the succession…”  
  
Ten minutes later Antiope is out of bed yelling at her sister over the phone.  
  
Menalippe has never heard her wife use so many swear words in one sentence. She watches on worriedly as the sisters argue back and forth — she can’t hear Hippolyta’s side of things, but every now and then there is a loud shriek from the phone. Then, suddenly, Antiope’s voice drops too quiet for Menalippe to hear and she bites her lip, wondering what is going on.  
  
Antiope hangs up the phone with a huff and walks back over towards the bed. Menalippe can’t read her expression.  
  
“Guess I’m getting pregnant,” Antiope says as she crawls back into bed and shoves her face in her pillow.  
  
“Are you sure?” Menalippe replies, scooting down to eye level.  
  
“Yeah,” Antiope nods, then sees Menalippe’s dubious expression. “Yes. _Yes_. I’m sure. I want to have kids with you so I’ll do it.”

* * *

“Oh my god. Hippolyta, I literally told you three days ago that we are going to think about having children. Where did you get… twenty-nine ‘Queen Hippolyta Approved’ sperm donors with personalised video messages addressed to Mena and I?”  
  
“…I have a lot more time now that Diana is at school.”  
  
“You’re supposed to be running the country!”

* * *

“No. He’s ugly,” Antiope says, immediately vetoing the next dossier Menalippe holds up.  
  
“You’re too picky.”  
  
“I will not have an ugly sperm donor for our baby when you are so beautiful,” Antiope declares. She takes a sip from her coffee cup and regards her wife carefully.  
  
“According to you all men are ugly,” Menalippe rolls her eyes, but smiles at the compliment.  
  
”All men _are_ ugly,” Antiope says, putting her feet up on the coffee table as she leans back in her chair. They are eating lunch on the couches Antiope’s office instead of the officer’s lounge to get some privacy from the other officers as they look at the latest pile of options compiled by Hippolyta.  
  
“How about this man? He has a nice jaw.”  
  
“A nice _jaw_?” Antiope raises an eyebrow.  
  
“You have a nice jaw… I like jaws,” Menalippe says. “Don’t judge me.”  
  
“I’m not judging. I don’t blame you,” Antiope grins sleazily. “Jaws are a good place to sit.”  
  
“Oh my god. Could you focus?”  
  
“I am focused. I am focusing on your jaw kink. How did I not know about this until now? I know about your ass kink, and your hair kink, and your kink for my badass scar—”  
  
“Please stop saying kink!” Menalippe shrieks, her face bright red despite knowing Antiope is deliberately riling her up.  
  
“Why? Kinks are healthy. Everyone should have kinks—”  
  
“Your wife is a smart woman, Mena,” Penthesilea says from the doorway where she is eating her sandwich. “Why are you guys talking about kinks and looking at photos of men? Ooh, are you planning a threesome? Experimenting with the D?”  
  
Menalippe groans and hides her face in her hands; she is no prude but she does prefer to keep their sex life private.  
  
“Ew, no thank you,” Antiope grimaces, closing the open files and stacking them on top of each other. She likes Penthesilea but doesn’t particularly want the entire base knowing what they’re up to. “What’s up?”  
  
“Nothing. I’m bored. Figured I’d come and see what you guys were up to since you keep sneaking off every lunch break together…” Penthesilea wiggles her eyebrows.  
  
“We’re working,” Menalippe says firmly. Penthesilea looks at her dubiously, and Antiope has to agree; they do not look like they’re working right now. She resigns herself to telling Penthesilea, and hopes that she will be able to contain her gossipy nature for Menalippe’s sake.  
  
“Working on what? Because this doesn’t seem like work — unless you’re hiring a new _alternative_ corrections officer?”  
  
“No!” Menalippe exclaims. She glances at Antiope for confirmation before turning back to her best friend. “Close the door.”  
  
“Ok…”  
  
“We’re looking for sperm donors,” Menalippe explains.  
  
“Sperm — sperm donors. Holy shit! That’s awesome!”  
  
A small smile spreads across Menalippe’s face and Antiope can’t help but smile too. Penthesilea bounces across the room to wrap them both up in a hug before settling on the couch on the other side of Menalippe.  
  
“So, how's it going?” Penthesilea asks, plucking up a piece of lettuce that fell from her sandwich onto Menalippe’s head during their hug and eating it.  
  
“Ti is being picky,” Menalippe says. Antiope senses Menalippe is happy to have told Penthesilea so that she now has someone to complain to. Antiope stands firm in her assessment of all the candidates being ugly.  
  
“Picky is good. Is this why you were discussing kinks? Are some of these men deviants?” Penthesilea picks up a file and flicks through it.  
  
“The kinks thing is irrelevant,” Menalippe says. “Ti got distracted. _Please_ help her focus and decide on at least one man.”  
  
“Ok. What’s wrong with this guy?” Penthesilea holds up the photos from the file she is looking through.  
  
“He’s short,” Antiope says..  
  
“You’re short,” Penthesilea replies.  
  
“I may or may not be short,” Antiope grumbles. “But Mena is not. Hence, we need a tall man.”  
  
“Ok. So… this guy?”  
  
“He’s got a creepy smile.”  
  
“This guy?”  
  
“Ew, that hair is so _boring_. What if he passes on boring genes to our child?”  
  
“See what I mean?” Menalippe says dryly.  
  
Antiope huffs and points at a band poster on her wall. “If you’d just let me ask Vasilis—”  
  
“He’s a _rockstar_. You know our donor must be Hippolyta-approved. Surely one of these hundred men is acceptable.”  
  
“They’re all so ugly and boring,” Antiope complains. “What if we have to keep them in the loop in the future? They need to be cool.”  
  
“It should not be this hard to find one man in Amazonia—”  
  
“What about my brother?” Penthesilea interrupts before they can start bickering.  
  
“Go on,” Antiope turns towards Penthesilea. She vaguely remembers meeting a buff, blonde man at one of their Christmases on base.  
  
“He’s thirty. He’s a total genius. Uh, he’s tall, plays guitar, and he’s a neurologist so he can diagnose everything that’s wrong with you,” Penthesilea finishes cheekily.  
  
Antiope resists the urge to flip the bird because this man does actually sound like a potential candidate. Penthesilea takes out her phone to find a good photo and show them.  
  
“Oh! I remember him! We did tequila shots,” Antiope grins. “I like him.”  
  
Menalippe rolls her eyes but she is relieved that Antiope is finally considering someone. “Would he be interested?”  
  
“I don’t see why not… I can always blackmail him,” Penthesilea replies.  
  
“You’re the best,” Menalippe smiles.

* * *

Penthesilea’s brother, Machaon, is more than happy to be their sperm donor, and he meets Hippolyta’s standards despite his shoulder-length hair, so they decide to start trying straight away. Every day Antiope monitors her temperature and Menalippe helps monitor her cervical mucus. It always turns into a lot of fun for Antiope. On the days that Antiope seems to be ovulating they invite Machaon over to their house to, well, ejaculate into a cup so Menalippe can insert it into Antiope via a syringe. Followed by another orgasm to help increase the likelihood of pregnancy; more fun for Antiope.  
  
It’s been five months now though and despite how fun it is, they’re both really hoping it will finally work. For a while there Antiope was referring to their house as the Jizz Palace, to Menalippe’s annoyance, but now the novelty has worn off.  
  
“I feel like I’m pregnant this time,” Antiope murmurs as she kisses her way down Menalippe’s chest.  
  
“It’s been two days,” Menalippe replies, trying to be realistic though her stomach flips at the thought of Antiope being pregnant.  
  
“I know, but I feel different. Mother’s intuition, ya know?” Antiope pauses at Menalippe’s hip. “Plus I’m super horny, isn’t that a thing?”  
  
“I think that’s in the second trimester… you’re just always horny.”  
  
“I can’t help that when I have such a beautiful wife.”

* * *

Antiope is still not pregnant. Her doctors say she’s perfectly healthy and to just keep trying, and to try not to stress. Antiope is relaxed about the process but Menalippe can’t help but be disappointed. Ever since they decided to have a baby a year ago now, she has been captivated by the idea. She’s always wanted a family and she’s eager for it to happen soon. She’s trying not to let her insecurities win out, but it’s difficult; at least Antiope is in tune with her worries and is being very, very loving.  
  
“Diana’s gonna have a sleepover this weekend,” Antiope calls out from the bedroom as she gets dressed for work.  
  
Menalippe is in the bathroom, putting her hair up in a bun and trying not to look at the negative pregnancy test in the bin beside her. Antiope’s period was two days late and they got excited. Ten months of trying and failing is hard, and Menalippe finds her vision going blurry in the mirror.  
  
“Mena? Does that sound good? Babe — oh, hey, what’s wrong?” Antiope murmurs, wrapping her arms around Menalippe from behind and kissing the nape of her neck.  
  
“I’m just being silly…”  
  
“No, you’re not.” Antiope says, pressing up against Menalippe’s back.  
  
“I just… I want to have a baby,” Menalippe whispers.  
  
“Me too. It’s going to happen, I know it," Antiope says reassuringly, peppering Menalippe's skin with firm kisses. "Will you be ok with Diana staying over?”  
  
“Yes,” Menalippe turns, sniffling in Antiope’s arms. “Love you.”

* * *

Menalippe has never felt as excited as the morning the pregnancy test is positive. Neither she nor Antiope can keep the grins off their faces and a few hours later when they enter the officer’s lounge together, Penthesilea knows instantly that it has been a success.  
  
“Oh my god! You guys!” Penthesilea squeals and hugs them both.  
  
“Thank you, but, uh — it’s a secret, remember?” Menalippe says, glancing around at the room but since their colleagues are all pre-coffee, no one is paying attention.  
  
“Oh right, right. Well, I have to go! Take care of my little niece!”  
  
“...Oh my god, I forgot she's technically an aunt,” Antiope says. “Hippolyta is gonna shit herself.”

* * *

“What about the name Hippolytus for a boy?” Menalippe asks as she brings their dinner over to the table.  
  
“We don’t need to think of boy names,” Antiope replies. “It’s a girl.”  
  
“How do you know? We haven’t seen the— did you see the doctor without me?” Menalippe’s eyes narrow.  
  
“No, babe. But my family never has boys. It’s like, some weird magic or shit. We’ve always had girls. Which is, obviously, better. Men make terrible rulers,” Antiope replies, digging into her pasta.  
  
“Well, maybe we could have a name in case?” Menalippe replies skeptically.  
  
“Trust me. We won’t need one,” Antiope says. “Mmm this pasta is good.”  
  
“Thanks,” Menalippe smiles, glad to see Antiope managing to stomach food after some pretty bad days of vomiting. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be one of those couples scrambling to decide a name in the hospital.”  
  
“It’s gonna be a girl. We haven’t had a boy in, like… ten generations. Didn’t you know this? I swear it’s taught in high school history. _Penthesilea_ knows it,” Antiope says.  
  
“Maybe I was taught it, but forgot it when actually knowing you and Hippolyta made everything I learned about your family in school seem incorrect.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“Hmm. For starters, I learned that you were a ‘well-mannered child,’” Menalippe grins.

* * *

“Ok, the vomiting sucks, but holy shit my boobs look good!”

* * *

“There’s a baby in there?” Diana asks, placing a hand against Antiope’s belly.  
  
“Yeah,” Antiope smiles. She is four months pregnant and her tiny baby bump is a source of endless fascination for her four year old niece.  
  
“A princess?”  
  
“Hmm, I don’t know actually,” Antiope says. She really should have paid more attention to her tutors.  
  
“Her title will be ‘Lady!’” Menalippe calls out from the entrance hall where she is carrying in takeaway pizzas.  
  
“Mena!” Diana says, rushing out of the living room to tackle Menalippe’s legs.  
  
“Hello Diana,” Menalippe smiles and bends down to hug Diana properly. She sees Antiope walking into the room not long after her and fondly takes in her wife’s fuller figure in her tracksuit pants and fitted t-shirt. Antiope is determined to not have to go clothes shopping. “Hello Aunt Iope.”  
  
“ _Mena_ ,” Diana whines and Menalippe laughs, ruffling her hair. “Antiope, you told her?”  
  
“Told her what?” Antiope says innocently.  
  
“Told her… nothing,” Diana says quickly.  
  
“Oh! Told her that you thought my name was Aunt Iope?” Antiope grins.  
  
“Ugh! Antiope!” Diana shrieks and pulls away from Menalippe’s hug to glare up at Antiope with her hands on her hips.  
  
“That was not very nice, Aunt Iope,” Menalippe says.  
  
“Mena!” Diana turns her glare upon Menalippe.  
  
“Sorry, darling,” Menalippe grins. “It was an easy mistake. Come on, let’s have pizza and I’ll tell you all the silly things your aunt has done.”  
  
“What— Menalippe!”  
  
“Did you know one time when Antiope was seven she called the President of the United States ‘Santa’ on live television?”

* * *

“Oh my god, this teddy bear is so soft!” Antiope exclaims. “This is the one.”  
  
“Ooh, that’s cute,” Menalippe says after seeing the stuffed toy that her wife is holding.  
  
“You like it?” Antiope asks. She is determined to find the perfect teddy bear for their future daughter today because she hates shopping trips and doesn’t want to have to make a second one.  
  
“Yes,” Menalippe smiles at Antiope. “You know, my grandmother’s nickname was Teddy.”  
  
“Really? That’s cool. I wish I had a nickname like that,” Antiope says.  
  
“Don’t you like ‘Ant?’” Menalippe teases. It’s Antiope’s least favourite nickname and originated from Menalippe’s drunken attempts at typing on Penthesilea’s phone on Pen’s last birthday.  
  
“Don’t you like ‘nipple?’” Antiope retorts; thankful that at least Menalippe also struggled to type her own name that night.  
  
“Touché, princess,” Menalippe grins.  
  
“Ugh. _Stop_ ,” Antiope grimaces. “See? I have too many awful nicknames. Especially from the media. Teddy would be a cool nickname… What is it short for?”  
  
“Theodora,” Menalippe says, regarding her wife and considering the name. They’re in no rush to name their baby but they’re always thinking of options. “I think it’s a lovely name.”  
  
“ _Theodora_ ….”

* * *

“Faster!” Antiope shouts from her chair as the battalion makes another lap around the PT yard.  
  
She’s been restricted from excessive exercise for weeks, and in addition she has now been restricted from using firearms, so she is taking her frustrations out on her soldiers.  
  
“I think that lanky guy might throw up soon,” Menalippe comments in amusement as she joins Antiope by the outdoor heater, carrying a coffee for herself and a peppermint hot chocolate for Antiope. It is January and Menalippe has to bribe the coffee shop to keep making their Christmas specials for Antiope.  
  
“I hope he does,” Antiope says.  
  
“Hon—”  
  
“Don’t. Let me be grumpy in peace,” Antiope grumbles. However she cracks a smile up at Menalippe when she takes the hot chocolate from her.  
  
“I was going to say, you should make them do intervals and he really will throw up.”  
  
“I love you,” Antiope sighs happily.  
  
“Are you warm enough?” Menalippe asks, putting her coffee down on the table, still standing and observing her wife. Antiope is shifting around on the bench despite her warm coat, scarf, beanie, and gloves. Compared to the soldiers running in long-sleeved tops and pants, Antiope feels ridiculous, but Menalippe is fretting over her.  
  
“Yes, dear.”  
  
“You’re wriggling—”  
  
“My back hurts,” Antiope pouts.  
  
“I told you not to sit on this bench—”  
  
“It’s not like — _oh_!”  
  
“What?” Menalippe says, quickly sitting down on the bench beside Antiope in concern as Antiope freezes.  
  
“Teddy’s kicking. Hard,” Antiope says, grabbing Menalippe’s free hand and pulling the glove off it. “I think you’ll be able to feel it today, it’s, oof, stronger.”  
  
“Oh…” Menalippe scrambles to unzip Antiope’s puffy coat and get her hand up under her shirt.  
  
Antiope instructs Menalippe where to move her hand, and they wait for the next kick but it doesn’t come.  
  
“ _Brat_ ,” Antiope laughs and talks to her belly. “You have to let your mama feel you kick too, Theodora.”  
  
“She takes after you,” Menalippe says with a twitch of her lips.  
  
“That’s rude—”  
  
“It’s true. You are—”  
  
A small nudge against Menalippe’s hand stops her. Her eyes widen and she looks down at Antiope’s belly and back up at Antiope. Menalippe feels her chest flutter as she realises she’s finally felt their baby move.  
  
“I think she takes after _you_. She clearly doesn’t like arguments,” Antiope says, grinning widely.  
  
Menalippe doesn’t have any other response except to kiss her wife and grin happily.

* * *

“God, Hippolyta drones on someti— oh,” Menalippe pauses as she enters their bedroom and sees Antiope lying in bed gently cupping her belly with an awed look on her face.  
  
“Mama’s here,” Antiope says to her belly and looks up at Menalippe with a soft smile. Antiope looks radiant these days and Menalippe can barely take her eyes off her when they’re together.  
  
“Hi, baby,” Menalippe replies, climbing onto the bed and cuddling up to Antiope’s seven-month belly to talk to their daughter. “I’m sorry that took so long. Your aunt wanted to confirm some of the details of your future bedroom.”  
  
“Did you tell her we don’t care?” Antiope replies.  
  
“I told her _you_ don’t care,” Menalippe says, staring at Antiope’s belly and placing her hands near Antiope’s. “But _we_ care, don’t we, Theodora? You’re going to have the nicest room with blue walls and horse wallpaper.”  
  
“She’s sleeping now. She’s bored of these discussions,” Antiope announces.  
  
“Oh, is she?” Menalippe raises an eyebrow. Antiope’s mood changes quite quickly these days and it seems she has shifted into irritated at the mention of her sister. Hippolyta has been giving them advice every day and Antiope is sick of it.  
  
“Yes, she is”—there’s a nudge against Menalippe’s right hand—“For fuck’s sake.”  
  
“Teddy is just saying hi to her mommies,” Menalippe says gently before Antiope can complain any more.  
  
“Tell your daughter to say hi in the morning and to stop kicking me,” Antiope whines.  
  
“Yes ma’am,” Menalippe says, her lips twitching. “Theodora, stop kicking mommy,”  
  
In response the baby kicks Menalippe’s hand again.  
  
“I swear she was finally going to sleep,” Antiope groans.  
  
“Mmm, well, since she’s going to keep you awake anyway…” Menalippe leans in to kiss Antiope’s belly, moving south. “Let’s have some fun.”

* * *

Theodora is the most perfect baby they have ever seen. She’s got a soft fuzz of blonde hair, gorgeous blue eyes, and the tiniest hands. She’s smaller than Diana was, because she came three weeks early, but she’s still very loud. She is now nursing from Antiope’s breast and the silence is a relief.  
  
“You just couldn’t wait until _after_ I’d spoiled your mama with presents for our wedding anniversary, could you?” Antiope says fondly as she gazes down at Theodora.  
  
“I’d say this is better than any other present,” Menalippe smiles, unable to take her eyes off her beautiful wife and their daughter. Perched on the bed beside them, Menalippe has never been happier in her life.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this :) kudos & reviews are highly appreciated xx


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